The Dog Starr
by Blood And Gold
Summary: Cassandra Starr is a trainee auror. One day, whilst on a tour of Azkaban, she finds herself drawn to the famed murderer Sirius Black and an odd friendship develops, a friendship that blossoms when, a year later, Black breaks free of prison.
1. Chapter 1

_Notes - Just a quick note to say I'm really excited about this one and I hope you enjoy it. Cassandra, in case you haven't guessed, is an original chracter. It's a dangerous game to play, I know, but there was no-one else to do the job...so I invented her. Just to make this perfectly clear - I LOATHE Mary-Sues and self-insertion, and Cassandra is neither. She is not stunningly beautiful, nor is she perfect. She makes a lot of silly mistakes, as you will soon see. so please, don't judge her before you know her. _

_Disclaimer- I do not, in any way, shape or form, own Sirius Black nor any of the other characters/locations etc associated with Harry Potter. They are the property of the eternally talented Joanne Rowling. I do, however, own Cassandra. Not that it matters. _

Chapter One

Cassandra Starr sat pensively in the window seat of her London townhouse, watching the torrential rain as it lashed against the glass. It had been squally all day, ruining a week of perfect July weather. That morning's edition of the Daily Prophet lay, crumpled, in her lap, its headline smothered by a photo of a recently escaped prisoner.

She found herself wondering where he was now. It had been two days since his escape from Azkaban and she'd heard nothing from him as of yet. She supposed he'd be lying low for a while, until the initial spark of panic had fizzled out and it was safe to make a move. He certainly wouldn't risk coming to London; there were too many people looking for him now that the muggles had been alerted too.

There was another issue, of course: it was only a matter of time until the Ministry questioned her again. She had, after all, been Black's only regular visitor in the twelve years he'd been incarcerated, and was the last person to speak to him properly before the break out. Well, they could interrogate her all they liked. She'd been as shocked as anyone by the news of his escape, having met with him just three days before it had happened and being told nothing. He'd made some odd hints; hints that made much more sense now that she thought on them…

Cassandra gave a weary sort of sigh and turned her head to the flickering photograph in her lap. He was younger there, not like the gaunt, skinny creature she'd first met about a year ago.

It had all started upon her return to England, after an entire two years of visiting the remotest wizarding colonies in the world. Travelling had been exciting but she was ready to return to an ordered life- and where better to start that to resume her studies, training as an auror?

It was an exciting profession, as she soon discovered, definitely worth the danger. There was an incident within her first week of schooling, when her reflexes had failed her during a duel, and left her with a long silver scar across her left cheek. Her mentor, a young auror by the name of Shacklebolt, had used all the dittany in the department to try and cure it but with no such luck; it was permanent, there, as he'd said, as a constant reminder to be vigilant at all times. That aside, however, her first term of training was her greatest adventure yet. She'd mastered advanced spells, broken the most complex of curses and even glimpsed a mission with her tutor. Yet the day that changed her life forever was the day she'd had her first tour of Azkaban prison.

It was everything she'd dreaded it would be: a great, moss-covered, looming giant of a fortress, floating off the treacherous coast of the north. She had never seen a more chilling sight. It seemed to sprout out of the iron sea like an eerie stone plant, every turret and buttress covered in lumpy coral, making the entire structure look as though it were carved from the seabed.

Inside was no better. It was a dark maze of passages, with numerous heavy doors lining every wall and dementors gliding out of the shadows. There were tiny, barred windows at the top of the doors, where the faces of the detained would appear, some glaring, some leering, some even howling as she was escorted through the corridors with Shacklebolt. Now and then he would point out a particular countenance, and tell her that the angry looks he was receiving from them were due to his being the captor who brought them here. There had been a surprising amount of them- dark wizards he'd caught- and they did not relent to show their animosity. At one point, he had actually stopped to debate with one of them, telling her to go on alone.

This she had done, ignoring the rude comments and catcalls her presence occasionally attracted. It had crossed her mind that most of these men had probably not seen a woman for years…and yet she hadn't been worried. There had been a warden on her left and a dementor drifting somewhere ahead of her, so even if they'd managed to break free of their cells, they would not get far.

Some time later, still being alone, she'd passed a cell that appeared to be empty; by that she'd meant there was no jeering face at the window or no obscene cries from within the cell walls. Out of sheer curiosity, she had sidled to the door and peered through the bars. To her surprise, it was actually occupied. There was a man there, sitting on a roughly hewn bench directly opposite her. He was thin, dressed in ragged, black robes and had a pale, gaunt face, common amongst the long-term inmates. She'd recognised him instantly: it was Sirius Black, murderer of a street full of muggles, or so they said. Though Cassandra had never seen anyone who looked less like a murderer. True, if she met him in a street, the skeletal face and messy appearance would frighten her. Yet one look into this man's eyes and she saw something she had not seen since stepping through the barred gates- sanity. There was calm awareness, gentleness, shrewdness and just a hint of sadness. So dark and deep were those eyes that she could have got lost in them.

She'd stood there for a moment, just watching him and him watching her back. She didn't even blink when he rose silently to his feet and glided across the small cell until he was right in front of her, his face close to hers, separated only by metal bars and a few inches of wood. He said nothing; just scrutinised the young woman with the intrigue of a tiger cub.

Then she'd done something either brave or foolish, she still wasn't sure which. She didn't even know why! It just tumbled out of her mouth-

"Mr Black. Might I talk with you for a moment?"

She'd had no idea what she was thinking. She had nothing to say to him, yet there was something that had made her think he had something to tell her. He nodded thoughtfully and the warden had rushed forward, wand in hand, and opened the cell. Black stood back with all the courtesy of a gentleman, allowing Cassandra to enter and even as the door was locked behind me, the confidence that possessed her at that moment did not fail. She'd walked boldly up to the alleged murderer and shook his hand, before seating herself on his bench. He'd sat a respectable distance away, though he was close enough for her to touch him.

"What do you want?" he'd asked her, not rudely. "I've seen dozens of your kind touring this place, admiring your handiwork. You're the first who ever wanted to talk to me. So what is it?"

As bluntly as could be, she'd answered with her own question: "You're not a murderer, are you Mr Black?"

For a moment, he had simply stared. Then, his pale face broke into a painful smile and he actually laughed.

She couldn't recall every word he had uttered in that twenty minutes he spent with her. Sometimes she had found it hard to hear him; his voice was so hoarse through lack of use. As she'd summarised it in her head, he had told her he was an innocent man and that he'd been set up by his treacherous friend Peter Pettigrew, the one he'd supposedly killed, who was in fact still alive and well, as far as he knew. And she'd believed him. What was more, she still believed him. She was a rational woman, and would not normally entertain such tall tales… but there was just something in those eyes of his when he'd told her. There was real anger, real pain. His face was practically etched with sincerity. She couldn't not believe him.

Her mentor had turned up some twenty minutes later, demanding that she left Black at once and continued with their tour. She had said her goodbye. She had promised him she'd come back again to visit as soon as she could arrange it. He'd looked unconvinced and she could hardly blame him, after all he'd been though.

For the days and weeks that followed, Sirius Black had dominated her thoughts. She simply couldn't believe that the system she worked for had failed: failed to uncover the truth. And for that blunder, an innocent man was wasting away in prison for a crime he did not commit.

It was about a month later when she had acted upon her promise to Black and returned to Azkaban to visit him. The governor was much less compromising without Shacklebolt's influence, but eventually he'd agreed to let the trainee auror into the prison.

Black had been sitting on the floor of his cell, his knees hunched up to his frail chest and a grubby, threadbare blanket drawn around him for warmth. He appeared fully surprised that Cassandra had kept her word.

"You came back," he'd exclaimed, simply, though it was unclear from his face whether he had been happy about this or not.

Nevertheless, their second meeting had commenced and passed. Black opened up more to Cassandra. He'd filled in the gaps he'd left in his story- how he'd been friends with the Potters since his school days, how he'd persuaded them not to use him as their Secret Keeper, but to go for the much less obvious Peter. He had described in heart wrenching detail the guilt that had wracked him after his friends' deaths and the swelling hatred he'd felt for the traitor Pettigrew. He had captivated Cassandra, moved her to the point of tears then swiftly apologised, telling her she shouldn't concern herself with him. Yet this had only intrigued her more.

Her third visit was a surprise. She'd apparated to the remote island the fortress was built upon at 6 pm on Christmas day. Again, it had taken some persuasion for her to be let in, this time owing to the large basket of treasures she had insisted upon bringing. But eventually, with the aid of bribery, the human guards had let her in.

"What is this?" Black had croaked, getting to his feet and holding out a thin hand for her to shake. Cassandra had deliberately ignored the claw-like appendage and instead pulled him into a tight embrace. He'd stiffened at first, as though he had forgotten what to do in face of such intimacy. However, his old human emotions had soon returned to him and he'd quite happily melted into Cassandra's arms. They had both waited a moment before pulling away, upon which point she pressed her basket into his grasp and stood back, smiling.

"Is this a present?" he'd murmured, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. Cassandra had simply laughed and pulled back the cloth that covered the contents. Inside was the array of seasonal delicacies she had prepared that morning: slices of rich roasted meats, puddings, an assortment of ripe fruit and a platter of cheeses. His face had lit up with delight and gratitude.

"There _was_ a bottle of wine," Cassandra had explained apologetically. "But your captors took it upon themselves to confiscate that. No doubt they though it might conceal some potion or other."

He'd given a harsh laugh and begun to delve enthusiastically in the basket, pulling out the parcel of sliced turkey and ripping into it.

"No matter," he'd mumbled, through mouthfuls, "I probably couldn't handle alcohol anyway."

He'd given his visitor a roguish wink, which made her laugh. She'd had to agree- he looked so thin and malnourished that even a single glass would have made him drunk.

The dementors, undoubtedly excited by the burst of happiness that must have been emanating from the cell, had begun to clamour about the door. Cassandra recalled being quite frightened. Only the wizard that had been standing outside, overlooking the visit, was stopping them from charging in and draining this poor man's cheer. If that warden had chosen to turn a blind eye…they'd have been upon him like dogs upon a fresh steak. Black, however, had seemed much less concerned.

"You get used to them," he'd shrugged, through a great mouthful of Christmas cake. He'd swallowed loudly and flashed her a weak smile. "Besides, they won't come in here now. They'll wait 'til you've gone, like they did last time."

At once Cassandra had felt incredibly guilty. She hadn't even thought that any happiness she tried to bring him whilst he was here would just be plundered from him tenfold at some point or other: was she effectively making it worse?

Her emotions must have showed in her face, for Black had paused in his ravenous consumption and put a skeletal hand on her shoulder.

"I've been here for eleven years and I've not gone mad with despair yet," he had said, simply. "Nor do intend to. If they steal these thoughts from me too, then so be it. I have my innocence to stop me going mad."

Cassandra had nodded, though she still couldn't help but feel terrible. It was odd that she'd felt compassion for this shell of a man, this creature she barely knew.

For a while, she'd just sat with him, taking some odd pleasure in the way he bolted his food with such relish. Even if the happiness she had brought him lasted but minutes, it was happiness all the same.

She'd waited until he'd consumed every last morsel before getting to her feet.

"I'm afraid I can't stay today, Mr. Black," she had whispered, delicately. "I just wanted to stop by…as it's Christmas."

"I'm glad you did," Black had replied. "And, please, call me by my first name. We're past formalities here."

Cassandra had laughed and, nervously, she bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're right," she'd said. "We are."

And without another word, she had left his dingy cell, giggling at the look of wonder on Sirius's face. The warden outside the door had given her a peculiar look as she'd exited, an expression of shock mingled with disgust and, eventually, annoyance, as he'd struggled to control the dementors that were lurking outside the cell.

From that moment on, an unconventional closeness had developed between Cassandra and Sirius. It was by no means a proper relationship: after all, for such a thing to develop in a damp, cold cell, surrounded by emotion-hungry horrors was nigh on impossible. Yet what passed between them had all the raw ingredients of a potential romance: compassion, mutual understanding, self-sacrifice and intimacy.

Cassandra had visited him once every month after Christmas, each time staying as long as she could before the wardens removed her. She and Sirius would talk about each other's lives, past and present, until they knew one another as well as they knew themselves. Occasionally, they'd recreate the kiss Cassandra had given him on Christmas Day, each time venturing a little further: from cheek, to lips, to the sensitive flesh on Black's slender neck. Rarely were these kisses ever enjoyable: often they were performed in grotesque imitation of the love they could have shared, had their worlds been not so tragically aligned. There was a cruelty to them that bordered sadism, a darkness behind them that threatened to engulf them both. Each time they indulged their growing affection for one another, they left, lingering on the other's lips, a desperate trace of dependency.

Cassandra thought it good that Sirius had escaped when he did. Had their relationship continued the way it had developed…well, only tragedy could ensue. However, his being free of the nightmares of Azkaban meant there was a chance, however small, that their liaison could grow up into the light and blossom into something beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, just as a bonus, here's Chapter Two. I assure you, they won't normally come this quickly, but as I had it ready, I thought I may as well give you something to go at. _

_A little bit of romance here. I'd like to see what you make of it (it's not easy to write, considering the circumstances). Enjoy! _

Chapter Two

A clap of thunder woke Cassandra a few hours later. She'd fallen asleep in her seat, the newspaper still in her lap and the storm still raging on outside. It was darker now and the lights illuminating the muggle streets had been lit, casting their eerie orange flicker over the surrounding buildings.

"Mistress has woken," came a squeaky voice from the dim room, making Cassandra jump with alarm. Her house elf, Mishka shuffled out of the shadows and laid an apologetic arm on Cassandra's hand. "Mishka is sorry," she exclaimed. "Mishka did not mean to frighten mistress."

"That's ok, Mishka," Cassandra sighed, getting slowly to her feet. "Tell me, what time is it?"

"The big noise clock has just struck three, mistress," replied Mishka. "Mistress has been sleeping for a long time."

"Have there been any owls?" asked Cassandra. She hurried into the dining room, Mishka scuttling at her heels and checked the mantelpiece.

"No owls, mistress," the house elf informed her, "But a gentleman called earlier. Mishka told him mistress was sleeping. Mishka thinks, mistress, he was from the Ministry."

"I don't doubt for a second that he was," Cassandra murmured. "I've been expecting them to stop by."

Cassandra let out another sigh and rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted and in dire need of rest, having not slept properly since Sirius had escaped. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind would torment her with images of his capture or of a host of dementors bearing down upon him, their hoods lowered. For all she knew, it could have happened. For all she knew, he could be dead.

"Should Mishka bring mistress her sleeping draught?" Mishka suggested, kindly. "Mistress needs to go to bed."

"I don't want the potion," replied Cassandra. "If something happens, I might not be able to wake up."

"Then would mistress object to a cup of cocoa?"

Cassandra smiled gratefully at her house elf.

"Yes please," she said. "Cocoa would be fantastic."

Mishka shuffled away, adjusting her pink tea towel as she went. She'd been a servant of the Starr family since Cassandra had been a girl, and had always favoured "the little mistress". Now, with her family gone, Mishka had only one Starr left to dote upon and she did so with much pride and efficiency.

Cassandra seated herself at the dining table, resting her head wearily in her hands. One owl. That was all she prayed for. Just a scrap of scribbled parchment to let her know he was all right. He was the first to ever do what he'd done; she had no idea what state he'd be in and it terrified her. Tears began to trickle from her eyes.

"There now," Mishka said, as she shuffled back into the room with a pot of cocoa. "Mistress is over-tired. Have some cocoa."

The gentle house elf had just begun to pour a cup of the thick, hot liquid when there was a clatter and a great crash from the kitchen. Mishka nearly dropped the teapot.

"Apologies, mistress," she squeaked, setting it down with trembling hands. "Mishka will go-"

"No, Mishka," interrupted Cassandra, jumping up from her chair. "I'll go."

She wiped at her eyes and pulled her wand out of the depths of her robes. She was not sure, but it sounded like something was in the kitchen: she could hear shuffling and scratching. It was most probably an animal but all the same she held her wand protectively in front of her and advanced into the next room.

The plant pot that had been under the window lay shattered on the floor, along with the china that had, presumably, been on the counter underneath it. The window itself was wide open and the rain from outside was soaking the curtains.

Cassandra groaned and, lowering her wand, made forward to shut the window. Yet a creak from the pantry door stopped her in her tracks. She turned her head just in time to see a great, shaggy dog emerging from the pantry. Its black coat was sodden with the rain and dripping on the floor, whilst a pair of pale eyes fixed onto her.

Cassandra did not even think to raise her wand. She was fighting with the impulse to run. Would it chase her if she did? The dog advanced closer, bearing a jaw full of sharp, white teeth. This was enough for Cassandra. She raised her wand and was just about the stun the beast when something odd happened: it began to change. Its head shortened, its fur began to disappear and the creature reared up on its hind legs, growling as though in pain. In a second, the dog was gone and a man stood in its place; tall and very thin, with long, matted hair and a gaunt but familiar face.

"Sirius!" Cassandra gasped, disbelievingly. "You're ok!"

She rushed at him, tears streaming involuntarily down her face, and flung her arms around his frail frame. He held her to him tightly, savouring her warmth and cradling her head with his slender hand.

"You idiot!" she sobbed, burying her face in his filthy hair. "You complete idiot! What are you doing here? You know they're looking for you!"

"It's ok," Sirius croaked. "They will never know I've been here. I've been in my dog form ever since I escaped."

He pulled away from the embrace and looked Cassandra in the eyes. Her tears ceased, replaced at once by sorrow and pity.

"I've never seen you look so ill," she whispered. Sirius laughed hoarsely and a flicker of light returned to his haunting eyes.

"I had to be thin," he explained. "Otherwise I wouldn't have fit through the bars."

"So that's how you did it!" Cassandra marvelled, clapping her hands together with delight. "Oh you clever thing, I did wonder…"

Her words trailed off as she leant into his face and kissed him, delicately, on his hollowed cheek. To her delight, she felt a tingle of excitement in her stomach for the very first time- the tingle she'd been missing in Azkaban. Curiously, she kissed him again, this time on his dry, cracked lips. The roughness of his skin didn't bother her; the spark that flickered into life as their mouths connected more than made up for that.

Sirius pulled her into his arms again and her heart began to race furiously in her chest. She felt herself swooning, yielding into his shockingly firm embrace, melting into their kiss. He moaned. She sighed. Eventually, Cassandra couldn't stand the torture a moment longer and she wrenched herself away and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"We shouldn't do this now," she muttered, reluctantly. "It's not fair on either of us."

"I know," replied Sirius. "The longer I stand here kissing you, the harder it will be to leave."

He turned sadly away to face the open window. The rain was still pouring in and it splashed miserably down his skeletal face, tricking down his cheeks like silver tears.

Cassandra put a hand tentatively on his shoulder, which he reached for and grasped in his own.

"So what brings you this way?" she asked. "I thought you would have gone north by now."

"I will be doing," he replied. "I just wanted to stop at Privet Drive first."

"You went to see Harry?!" gasped Cassandra incredulously.

"I didn't show myself to him," he assured her, squeezing tightly on her hand again. "I just…observed him, that's all. He seemed fine, so then I came up here to see you."

"You didn't have to risk yourself for me," she mumbled, and she wrapped her arms around his tiny waist. He tilted his head to look at her, and, to her delight, he was smiling for the first time in ages.

"You liar," he jeered. "You would have been furious with me if I hadn't seen you before I went. Besides, it's not like I was spotted."

He paused for a moment, during which a loud rumble was emitted from his stomach. Cassandra laughed.

"I hope that means you're going to let me feed you before you go," she giggled. "You sound - and look - like you need it."

"I suppose I can't object to that," he agreed. "I'm getting quite bored of rats already."

"Rats?" repeated Cassandra, pulling a face. "The things you do…"

She took Sirius's hand and began to lead him back to the pantry. However, the kitchen door opened and in scuttled Mishka, carrying her teapot of cocoa.

"Mistress has been a long time," the house elf mumbled. "Mishka has come to-"

Her big, round eyes fell upon Sirius and the teapot fell from her hands, crashing on the kitchen floor.

"Mishka, please," Cassandra pleaded, rushing forward to console the elf.

"Mistress, what is he doing here?!" cried Mishka, stepping back in alarm. "He is a bad man! Mistress, we must contact the Ministry-"

"No, Mishka, you can't! He's not what you think he is."

The elf made to dart from the room but Cassandra caught her tiny wrist with one hand and held her tightly.

"Please," she begged and she crouched down until she was level with Mishka's terrified face. "I promise you, this man is not a murderer. He's innocent, Mishka, and I have to help him. Please, please don't tell a soul! If the Ministry find him, we'll both be in Azkaban. For the sake of the family, Mishka…please?"

For a moment, Mishka looked resolute. She stared her mistress hard into the eyes. Then her face relaxed.

"Mishka will not tell," she promised. "For the sake of mistress and the honourable Starr family."

"Thank you, Mishka," Cassandra sighed. She stood up and turned to Sirius, who was backed up against the kitchen sink, looking distrustful.

"Maybe I should go now," he murmured, his grey eyes glinting darkly. "I don't want to cause any more trouble."

"Oh, don't go yet," cried Cassandra. "You need to eat something; look at you, you're starved."

"I'll be fine, Cassie," he said firmly. "Don't worry about me. Besides, I want to make it out of the city before the sun rises."

He lunged forward and pulled Cassandra into a squeezing hug, planting a bevy of kisses in her sweet-smelling tresses. She whimpered and made an attempt to bury her face in his dirty robes, but he gently pushed her back.

"Don't make this harder than it is," he sighed. "We have to be patient, for just a little longer."

He kissed her again, for a final time, as passionately as he could, as though drawing strength from her lips.

"Stay beautiful," he breathed as he pulled away, licking his mouth hungrily. "I'll be back for you before you know it."

"You'd better write," Cassandra warned, smiling. "If I don't hear from you, I'm coming up there."

"I'll write," Sirius promised. He kissed her again on the cheek before transforming into the giant, black dog. Somewhere at Cassie's ankles, Mishka gave a loud squeak of fright and ducked out the way.

The dog, now perched on the kitchen counter, gave a playful bark before squeezing out of the open window, and bounding over the garden wall. Cassandra stood and stared after him. When, after a few minutes, he did not return, she closed the window and drew the damp curtains.

"What will mistress say when the Ministry officials return?" Mishka asked timidly.

"Mistress will lie," replied Cassandra. "I've managed to lie to them so far so I see no reason to spill the beans as of yet."

"But if they use Veritaserum?" probed the elf. Her mistress gave a hollow laugh and shook her head.

"I've been taking that stuff daily since I started my auror training," she scorned, shooting Mishka a dark smile. "It has no effect on me anymore. Let them try, Mishka. They will get nothing out of me."

She made towards the kitchen door, side stepping the puddle of water on the tiled floor.

"I'm going to bed now," she added, pausing before she left. "I suggest you get some rest too. We're going to have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

With that, she turned her back on both sodden kitchen and stricken elf and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. The last image in her mind, before she'd passed out of sheer exhaustion amongst the tangle of bed sheets, was of a great black hound, disappearing into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ok, so here is where it begins to get juicy. I'll be chuffed if anyone can guess what Cassie is up to. _

_Erm, just as a note, I do try to keep these fics as canon as possible (as canon as a fic can be, anyway). If there's anything not right, like the names of the Ministry departments, please let me know and I will be happy to alter it accordingly. _

Chapter Three

The next day, as promised, was set to be very busy indeed. Cassandra had abandoned her impassioned mood upon waking that morning, determined to be as steely and focused as her training had taught her to be.

She scrutinised herself in the mirror as she dressed: any flaws in her clothing were a sign of weakness, and the Ministry would notice weakness and use it to their advantage. Sirius's words from the previous night rang through her head: _stay beautiful._

Cassandra had never really thought of herself as beautiful. She was not ugly. On the contrary, in her days at Hogwarts, she had been heralded as quite a looker by her peers. That was until the later years. For as the months passed, the other girls began to out-develop her and the hormone driven boys favoured their curvaceous hips and fuller breasts. Cassandra, however, stayed small and slender and petite, and that was how she remained as she stood before her mirror, examining herself. The white shirt and pencil skirt looked both smart and elegant. The pinstriped robes added a subtle hint of alertness. To complete the look, she drew back her black curls into a neat bun and tied it with a slither of velvet ribbon.

"Is mistress ready?" asked Mishka, not for the first time. Ministry officials had arrived at the Starr residence a full ten minutes ago, yet Cassandra had insisted that Mishka keep them waiting until she'd changed. As far as she was concerned, if they wished to interrogate her in her own home, it would be on her terms and her terms only.

"I'm ready Mishka," Cassandra replied. "Did you offer our guests any refreshment?"

"No mistress!" Mishka responded, looking horrified. Cassandra merely smiled sardonically.

"Good," she said. "Don't."

The young Miss Starr was surprised upon entering her living room. Not only were there two unfamiliar Ministry members sitting quite comfortably on her chintz divan, but also the Minister for Magic himself was present, occupying the armchair in front of the fireplace.

"Minister," Cassandra exclaimed, deliberately failing to conceal the coldness in her voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Well, it's urgent business, my dear," the portly man mumbled. "I rather had to come."

Cassandra noticed him fiddling with his bowler hat and smiled: he was nervous, desperate even. Any lie she fed him would be lapped up so long as it made him look as though he was trying to cope with Sirius's escape.

"I assume you're here to grill me about Black again," she said, sounding bored. "I told the last lot of your men who pestered me everything I knew about him, which wasn't much."

"You may have missed something," commented a raven-haired man from the sofa.

"Oh I very much doubt it," Cassandra smiled and she took up the only other chair in the room. "My meetings with the man were peculiar enough for me to recall every detail. I told you last time- he said nothing to me of an escape plan. There was nothing different about the way he behaved that would make me think something was afoot."

"Ah, but my dear," asserted Fudge, "the smallest detail may be the key to unlocking this little mystery. Some thing small and seemingly superfluous…that's all it could take to make a difference."

"I gave you every detail last time," she repeated, looking the Minister right in the eyes. "Your men from the Law Enforcement Squad took comprehensive notes. I see no reason why I should repeat what is already recorded."

"Miss Starr, you're being most unreasonable," the raven-haired man remarked. He peered at Cassandra over his spectacles in a manner he surely perceived to be imposing. Cassandra, however, was unruffled. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to lie more convincingly than she'd ever done in her life.

"Am I?" she exclaimed, in feigned surprise. "Well, sir, I'm sorry that you feel that way. However, you must understand how distressing this is. Yes I visited Black. It helped me greatly with my training - to understand the mind of a particularly dark wizard is useful. Therefore I know too well what kind of man he is and I share your concern that he's roaming the streets as we speak! Yet I fail to see how harassing innocent citizens is helping you to catch him. If you've failed to learn anything from the exhaustive account I've given you, I'd like to suggest that you move on and stop wasting time flogging a dead horse. You'll never forgive yourselves if you miss an important lead because you were too busy focusing on petty trivialities."

"I see your point, Miss Starr," the Minister conceded. "All the same, and I don't mean any offence by this, but I, and others I work with, feel that there's something you might not be telling us."

"Something I'm not telling you?!" Cassandra repeated, doing her best to sound affronted. "Minister, why would I do that? The man's dangerous! If I knew anything that could help you, do you not think I'd reveal it, for the sake of my own life if nobody else's?"

"See, I'm not so sure," sighed Fudge. He began to toy with his hat again, folding and unfolding the brim meticulously. "After all, you and Black had a history, so I don't see why he'd-"

"I seriously hope you're not suggesting there was some affinity between myself and that…_thing_!" scoffed Cassandra. "All I ever did was analyse him. If you think that buys me some place of high esteem in his heart, I'd say you were mad!"

"I've heard tell of you kissing him," chimed the other, blonde official, who'd remained silent and motionless until now. "I'd say that suggests an affinity."

Cassandra persevered with her expression of disdain, though she had rather hoped that they weren't going to bring the kissing into the equation.

"I was keeping him sweet," she lied, swiftly. "Those of you who've met Black will know that, whilst he's not completely anti-social, he maintains his privacy. I had to break down his defences _somehow_. One of the first lessons I learnt as an auror was "use your assets as best as you can", and that's precisely what I did. And it worked, clearly. It's a little unconventional, I'll admit, but it got me what I wanted."

"That was a mighty risk for a bit of extra credit work," Fudge noted, the politeness in his voice fading somewhat.

"Not really," shrugged Cassandra. "The man had been in prison for eleven years…it really wasn't to hard to rouse his physical interests."

She smiled pleasantly at her interrogators, who, finally, looked as though they were defeated. Whether or not they believed what she'd said didn't matter: they would have no choice but to fold. Cassandra was too quick for them. She had an answer to every question, which she delivered with all the false sincerity she could generate.

"Well, I see we're not going to do any good pursuing this," the Minister sighed. "Miss Starr clearly has nothing more to divulge."

"I'm glad we've all finally realised that," said Cassandra, in a sickly sweet tone.

"Well, I'm a busy man, Miss Starr, so I shan't keep you," Fudge went on, getting to his feet and replacing his hat atop his balding head. "If, however, any fresh information arises, feel free to stop by when you're in for training."

"Oh, well, I'm not sure if that will be possible," she objected politely, also rising. "You see, I shan't be returning to my training this year."

"You won't?" the Minister repeated, looking surprised. "That's odd- you were one of Shacklebolt's personal fledglings, were you not?

"I was indeed," Cassandra affirmed, "And as great an honour as it was, I'm considering a different path, as I've already informed my superiors."

"Well, good luck with that," Fudge mumbled, half-heartedly. "It will be a shame to lose such a – erm – _promising_ auror."

Cassandra flashed another sweet smile, at which point Mishka scuttled forwards to show out her mistress's guests. Only when the front door was shut, locked and re-sealed, with the aid of an anti-eavesdropping spell, did Cassandra feel safe to talk again.

"That was close, Mishka," Cassandra sighed, leaning against the cool living room wall. Her house elf reappeared around her knees, looking up with concern in her large, brown eyes.

"It was," she agreed, her voice slightly higher than natural. "Mishka hopes this is not impertinent, but mistress is playing a dangerous game."

"I know," murmured Cassandra. "But what else can I do?"

Mishka seemed to consider this question for a moment. Her bat-like ears perked up and her mouth became thin as she pursed her lips. Eventually, she glanced up again and suggested:

"Mistress can have some food, as mistress had not eaten."

Cassandra laughed. She didn't know what she had been expecting Mishka to say, but she should have guessed it would be something so typical of a house elf.

"Not now," she said, gently. "We have a bit more work to do."

"What work is this, mistress?" Mishka asked and she looked slightly fearful of the response.

"Fetch my best writing set, please," Cassandra requested. "I need to write to Albus Dumbledore before this day is out."


	4. Chapter 4

_Just a quick apology - sorry the letter formats aren't very clear. Naturally, on my word processor, all handwritng samples had different fonts. Owing to restrictions, I can't do that here, so I simply had to make do with italics._

Chapter Four

"Mistress, there is an owl! It has mistresses letter!"

It had been two days since Cassandra had contacted her ex-headteacher. She'd been getting nervous, as Dumbledore was usually prompt to rely to his post. Any lateness on his behalf often indicated bad news, which would mean the breakdown of a key component of her plan. Now, however, she could be put out of her misery, as Mishka appeared in the drawing room with a loud crack, the much-awaited reply in her tiny hand.

"It is surely Albus Dumbledore's writing, mistress," Mishka confirmed, handing over the heavy parchment envelope. "And look! It bears the seal of Hogwarts."

Anxiously, Cassandra opened the envelope, her hands trembling slightly, shook out the letter inside and began to read.

_Dear Miss Starr,_

_Firstly, allow me to begin by saying how delightful it was to receive your letter. It is always a great pleasure to see familiar faces return to us here at Hogwarts._

_In response to your letter, I am pleased to inform you that I do have a position you would be most apt to fill, especially after your experience at the Auror Office. As it happens, Professor Snape is interested in an apprentice: someone to help with his external research and also to assist in general classroom situations._

_I would very much like to meet with you and discuss this proposition in person. Are you available for interview on Thursday the 30th?_

_I look forward to hearing from you._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Cassandra re-read the letter for a second time. Then, her face lit up with a triumphant smile and she let out a shriek of delight. Mishka, however, did not share her enthusiasm. 

"It is good news, then, mistress?" she asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"Yes," cried Cassandra, clapping her hands with glee. "I have an interview with Dumbledore on Thursday, though by the sound of it, it's less an interview and more a case of accepting the job in person. Tell me, is the owl that brought this still here?"

"It is sitting on the fence, mistress," Mishka replied gloomily. "It must be waiting for mistresses reply."

"I thought as much," Cassandra mumbled. She hurried over to her desk and scribbled a quick response onto a piece of parchment, taking care not to blot the ink in her excitement.

"Here," she said, thrusting the reply into her house elf's hand. "Send this back will you, Mishka? I need to floo Warble and Watts."

"What does mistress want with Warble and Watts?" asked Mishka, looking both surprised and suspicious. Cassandra sighed and gave her elf a weak smile.

"We're selling the manor, Mishka," she said, gently. "It's not important now there's no Starr family to live in it any more. I'm going to sell it and buy a house in Hogsmeade."

Mishka looked completely scandalised.

"Mistress cannot sell Starr House!" she squeaked. "Mistress's family have lived her for six generations!"

"It's just a house, Mishka," shrugged Cassandra. "Our family can live on without it."

The house elf shook her head vigorously, as though she longed to disagree. Her duty, however, held her back, and she vanished from the room to complete the task requested of her.

Cassandra pulled her wand from her robes and sent a jet of flames into the hearth. The wood in the grate crackled and the fire burst into life. She took a trinket box from the mantelpiece and, taking a handful of the glittering powder inside, threw it into the flames.

"Warble and Watts Limited," she announced clearly, stepping into the fireplace. There was a whirl of green light and Cassandra stepped out of the fire and into a smart shop office. There was a row of handsome, wooden desks against the mullioned windows, where witches and wizards were conversing loudly with charismatic salesmen. The proprietor, a tall, middle-aged man in purple robes, spotted her and moved forwards from the shadows.

"Miss Starr!" he exclaimed, taking Cassandra's hand in his own and kissing it. "What a pleasure! Welcome to Warble and Watts Limited, Wizarding Property Merchants. I'm William Watts Junior, owner of this fine establishment. What brings you to us, Miss Starr?"

"I'm looking to sell my estate," Cassandra murmured quietly. William Watts' face lit up with obvious delight.

"You're selling Starr House?" he repeated, his eyes glittering greedily. "Starr House in Kensington?"

"Yes," hissed Cassandra. "But for heavens sake, don't make a fuss about it or I shan't bother. I want this done with discretion, Watts, or tongues will be wagging."

"Of course, Miss Starr," said Watts, unctuously. "My apologies. I'm assuming you wish me to sell the property privately?"

Cassandra nodded and Watts clasped his hands together gleefully.

"Excellent!" he cried. "Don't worry Miss Star, I have plenty of clients who would be very interested in buying your estate. Might I enquire as to the reason for your decision?"

"There's nothing wrong with the house, if that's what you mean," she sniffed, liking Mr Watts less by the second. "Everything's in order. I just want a change, that's all."

"Perfectly understandable, Miss Starr," Watts agreed, nodding his head knowingly. "Variety is the spice of life, as they say."

"Indeed," sighed Cassandra. "Which brings me to my second point of business. I want a property in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" asked Watts, looking surprised. "Miss Starr, I assure you there will be nothing of Starr House's quality in the village of Hogsmeade."

"I'm not after another manor, Watts. I just need a nice sized house, preferably with a bit of character, somewhere within Hogsmeade."

Mr Watts seemed reluctant. Clearly, selling an eight-bedroom townhouse for a country cottage was an unusual move. Cassandra didn't care. She had her reasons, reasons that she desired to keeps as quite as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ok, here he comes, possibly the greatest character in HP series. I hope I've done him justice!_

Chapter Five

It was not long before September was creeping up on Britain again. Starr House had been sold in a matter of days, much to Mishka's dismay, and Watts had successfully found Cassandra a pretty cottage in Hogsmeade village. It was by no means as large as her previous home, but it was quaint enough, with its rustic, stone walls and neat garden.

Her interview with Albus Dumbledore had also been successful; her position at Hogwarts had been secured and she was due to start work with her former Head of House any day. Naturally, she had been offered a room at the castle, which she had accepted despite owning a property nearby. Owing to increased security measures, the headmaster did not think it would be convenient for her to have to travel to the castle each morning, and that it would be a liability to have her house linked to the castle's floo system, just in case a certain someone tried to use it to their advantage.

She had, of course, informed this certain someone of her actions the moment she had returned from Dumbledore's interview. She had been reluctant to give away too much detail in case her letter was intercepted, but her brief note had been enough to let Sirius know what was going on.

_Just to let you know, I've relocated and am currently residing in Hogsmeade. I've taken a job at the school as well, so I will be able to keep an eye on things for you. I'm not sure where you are at the moment but at least you can find me if you need to. Be careful darling. I don't know what I'd do if you were caught._

_P.S. Look for my sign upon a door in Meadow Lane. That's where I'll be if you need me._

Her sign was the same she used to seal her letters- a simple, pentangle star. She had acquired a pewter one from a shop in Diagon Alley and had attached it to her front door, where it was inconspicuous enough not to be noticed unless one was looking for it.

"Does mistress think that Mr Black will come here?" Mishka had asked, the afternoon of September 1st. "Would he risk it?"

"I don't know," Cassandra sighed. "He knows he has somewhere to take refuge if he needs it and that's what matters."

Cassandra and her house elf were finishing the task of packing her trunk. Everything she would need whilst at the castle would be kept with her: clothes, robes, her potions books, her journal…

"Is that everything, Mishka?" she asked, scanning the assortment of neatly piled objects in the trunk meticulously.

"Mishka thinks it is, mistress," the house elf replied. "If it isn't, mistress needs only to owl Mishka and Mishka will come."

"Yes, I suppose so," Cassandra agreed. "It's not as though I have far to go. Now, do you remember everything I told you?"

"Yes," said Mishka enthusiastically. "Mistress said if any owls come to the house, Mishka must send them on to Hogwarts. If Mr Black arrives, Mishka must let him in the back door and contact mistress immediately."

"Good," praised Cassandra, smiling. "I'll come back at weekends to leave you some money for food and upkeep. Do you remember the code for my fireplace in case you need to floo me?"

"Mishka has it written down, mistress," Mishka replied.

"Excellent," beamed Cassandra. "Now, don't forget, floo my trunk up at eight tonight. I'll be in my room by then. What time is it now…?"

She looked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room – the hands read half past four. The Hogwarts Express was not due in until six. Hopefully, she could catch up with her old mentor some time before then, providing he was not in a last minute meeting. It would be odd seeing him again. In her later years, she'd developed an odd sort of crush on him. She had no idea why; he wasn't a particularly attractive man at all. Not like Sirius. Yet his subtle power and his Slytherin cunning had left her in revered admiration of him. Would he have changed much since then?

"Mistress is walking up to the castle?" asked Mishka, curiously, interrupting her train of thought.

"Yes," Cassandra replied. "The floo portal only becomes active later tonight. Besides, I do miss strolling through this place. It brings back such old memories."

Cassandra pocketed her wand and pulled on her favourite cloak, a lustrous velvet affair in a bold shade of emerald green. She grinned, reminded of her old house pride, before stepping out of the cottage and into the cool, autumn afternoon.

The walk up to the castle was not a long one usually, but in her enjoyment Cassandra found it passed even faster. In no time at all she had passed the bustling pubs and the shops that were just closing for the day, making her way onto the winding path that led up to the castle gates. The sight of the familiar boar-topped posts excited her. It had been a good three years since she had seen them last and her heart began to race as she approached them once again. On the other side of the iron gates, the face of Argus Filch grimaced at her, unchanged, from under a woollen scarf.

"Miss Starr," he grunted, unlocking the gates ceremoniously. From around his ankles came the familiar mewing of his old cat, Mrs Norris. Cassandra had to force herself not to giggle as she passed, remembering the times in her schooldays when she'd crossed the pair of them.

"Afternoon, Mr Filch," she responded, pleasantly enough. "My, it's good to be back here. It's been such a long time."

"You're wanted in the staff room," Filch told her grumpily as he fiddled with the locks. "And mind you wipe your feet! I've just scrubbed the Entrance Hall."

Suppressing a laugh, Cassandra bade him good day and trudged excitedly up to the castle, taking care to wipe her muddy boots before she entered.

Naturally, the castle hadn't changed at all. Every portrait and rug and suit of armour seemed to be exactly where it had been the day she left. She wondered how much the staff had changed since her last year. There was bound to be a new Defence teacher – there always was, every year. Rumour had it the post was cursed.

The staff room was on the second floor, a couple of corridor down from the Defence classrooms. Setting eyes on it's closed door again brought back a flood of memories, several of which involved being hauled up there to face angry teachers back in her earlier years. Not knowing what or who to expect, she knocked tentatively and awaited a response. There came no sound from within, yet the door opened as though of it's own accord. Could that have been Peeves the poltergeist up to his old tricks? Cassandra felt for her wand in her pocket before entering cautiously.

At first, the long, panelled room appeared to be empty. However, sitting in a winged armchair by the fire was her former head of house, Severus Snape.

Cassandra's face split into a warm smile upon seeing her favourite teacher, a gesture he returned, if only slightly.

"Fashionably late as usual, Miss Starr," he commented, sounding vaguely amused. "Or is it _Mrs Black_ these days?"

"What?" Cassandra exclaimed, trying to conceal her horror. She knew the Slytherin housemaster was intuitive but surely he had not sussed her secrets within seconds of meeting her? One look at the smirk on his thin, white lips, however, told her he was teasing. "I don't know how you found out about that, Professor," she murmured, smiling in return, "yet I assure you it's not what the Ministry have made it out to be. He was a subject for study, nothing more."

"Of course not," Snape said, indicating to the chair opposite him. "As a proud Slytherin, I should have known better than to think you'd stoop as low as a Gryffindor."

Cassandra laughed, though she deliberately avoided his gaze. She _knew_ Snape was something of a Legilimens and though she'd mastered a level of Occlumency during her training, she could not risk him exposing the truth. He, however, did not seem to notice her evasiveness and set about conjuring tea out of thin air.

"Tell me," he asked softly, "what is it that brings you back here? Unless I'm mistaken, which I doubt, you seemed more than happy to say goodbye to Hogwarts those three years ago."

"Oh I was," exclaimed Cassandra, accepting a steaming cup thankfully. "But like you said, that was three years ago. I've had my adventures. Now I want something more stable."

She sipped at her tea, smiling at her professor over the rim of her teacup. His glittering black eyes looked intrigued but not suspicious.

"And the Ministry?" he continued, pouring a cup for himself. "From what I heard, you only completed one year of Auror training."

"Then you heard correctly," she affirmed. "It was interesting enough. Yet the amount of corruption in the Ministry was appalling. I found myself unable to take them seriously anymore."

Snape laughed heartily, his lips curling into an all-familiar sneer.

"That I could have told you myself, Miss Starr," he informed her. "Without a year in their employment. Still, I suppose you must make your own mistakes."

"I have," smiled Cassandra. "I did. And now I'm here again."

"As I said," Snape murmured silkily, "you must make your own mistakes."

It was Cassandra's turn to laugh. She lowered her teacup and looked earnestly into the eyes of her former housemaster.

"Come now," she said, in a tone as gentle as his. "Surely it's not so bad teaching at Hogwarts? _You're_ still here."

"I've grown accustomed to the salary," Snape responded acidly, causing Cassie to laugh again. "As piteous as it is."

"And that's the only reason?" she pressed. "No sense of satisfaction from moulding young minds?"

The sneer that formed on Snape's face answered this question itself. Cassandra decided to change the subject.

"So, are you going to tell me what you want with me, Professor?" she asked. "I've never known you to require an accomplice."

"There is much you've never known," smiled Snape. "But yes, you are the first apprentice I've had. I'm going to attempting to improve an already complicated potion…

"What do you know about the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Miss Starr?"

"Nothing," Cassandra admitted.

"Well, allow me to update you. The new teacher is a former Gryffindor, a man who was in the same school year as I. His name is Remus Lupin."

There was a loud crash as Cassandra's teacup toppled out of her fingers and shattered on the stone floor. Cursing herself for her blatancy, she retrieved her wand and repaired it at once. Remus Lupin was a name she'd heard many times from Sirius. He was his old best friend and, if what she'd been told was true, a werewolf. It seemed an odd coincidence that the two former friends would return to Hogwarts at the same time.

Cassandra looked up and muttered a swift apology to Snape, who was regarding her with increased intrigue. Again, she avoided his eyes. She could not have him delving into her mind whilst she was thinking of Sirius.

"You know Remus Lupin?" the housemaster asked carefully.

"I know _of_ him," she murmured, quite truthfully. "Black mentioned him several times during our interview."

"Then you know of his…_condition_?"

"I know that he is a werewolf. And I imagine the difficult potion you want to be brewing is going to be wolfsbane?"

Snape gave the smallest of smiles and nodded.

"It certainly is," he responded, his eyes glimmering coldly. "The Headmaster has asked me to be in charge of keeping Lupin's condition at bay. The only way of doing this is with the wolfsbane potion, which is flawed at best. So we shall be doing what we can to improve it."

The potion's master paused to sip pointedly at his tea. There was a peculiar expression etched on his face, a combination of annoyance and deepest cynicism. Cassandra imagined she knew why.

"You think it's too much of a coincidence, don't you Professor?" she asked, choosing her words carefully so as not to anger him. "Black escaping, and now his old school friend turning up here?"

"How very astute of you," Snape replied, a hint of a sneer on his lips. "Yes, I do, Miss Starr. I'm sure you have heard the rumours that Black has broken free to finish off young Mr Potter, that he could be headed this way. I find it far too convenient that his old pal Remus has stationed himself here, ready and waiting for Black's arrival. The Headmaster, however, does not share my concerns. He assures me that Potter is safe and that Lupin is entirely loyal to us."

"I suppose it will become apparent in time, professor," Cassandra shrugged, gazing into the fireplace at the dancing flames.

"Indeed it will," agreed Snape, thoughtfully. "And when it does, I shall be the first to remind the Headmaster of his mistake- trusting a werewolf."


	6. Chapter 6

_OOOOOOH! This is where it starts to get fun! Ok, well here is chapter six. It was originally a great big long thing, but I have split it up to make it more managble...and to keep you on your toes. _

_Excited? I am lol! We're getting ever so much closer to Cassandra revealing her Slytherin streak...and I want to see if you can still like her afterwards. Anyway, not another word. Enjoy! _

Chapter Six

Term began successfully for Cassandra. From the night of September the first, she began her evening work with her former mentor, Severus Snape, as they set about, four nights a week, to improve the wolfsbane potion. It was a complicated concoction that took a couple of weeks to brew effectively, and they were kept busy, having always to have a completed potion available for Lupin's next transformation as well as their research.

On top of her apprentice work, Cassandra spent time helping her old housemaster to prepare his lessons, which was an excellent opportunity to grill one of the most knowledgeable teachers in the castle for all the latest news, including recent sightings of Sirius, which had quickly become a part of Snape's obsession with his Black-Lupin conspiracy theory.

"I don't trust that werewolf," he spat angrily, as he stormed back into his office. It was the Saturday of Halloween and the potion's master had just taken Lupin his latest dose of wolfsbane whilst the students were at Hogsmeade. "He was with Potter again!" he mused. "What is his interest with that brat? Could he be trying to get something out of Potter that would help Black?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Severus," responded Cassandra, who was bent over the cauldron in the fireplace and taking a sample of their latest batch. She had recently taken to calling her former professor by his first name; so far he had not chastised her for it, so she assumed he didn't mind. After all, he used hers.

"They're up to something," Snape muttered darkly, not for the first time, as he sat back in the chair behind his desk. "I just wish I knew what!"

In his frustration, he picked up a glass bottle and threw it bitterly at the door of the office, where it shattered into many, blue shards.

Cassandra had to endure his irritable mood all day. Even the excitement of the Halloween feast was not enough to cheer him. He sat sullenly playing with his food, glancing every so often at Lupin across the table.

"He's going to think you've got a thing for him if you keep looking," Cassandra murmured warningly in his ear. Snape glared at her and gave her a rough prod under the table with his wand before turning back to his half-eaten dinner. Cassandra simply smiled. Being a Slytherin meant she'd long ago been conditioned to his tempers.

When the feast had ended, she took him tentatively by the arm, expecting another jab of his wand; it didn't come. Snape allowed her to steer him towards the doors of the Great Hall.

"I've missed big things like this," she said pleasantly. "Halloween's never as much fun once you've left Hogwarts. Did you enjoy it, Severus?"

"I forget the last time I enjoyed one of these silly feasts," Snape murmured, scowling. "Assuming I ever enjoyed them at all."

They paused to allow the remaining students bustle out of the hall. Cassandra laughed.

"I have to get you out of those dungeons some time," she smiled. "We can't have you becoming another old miser."

This time she sensed the wand coming and she dodged it, laughing at the look of irritation on her mentor's face.

"You're still an insolent little wretch," he told her, though he smiled, if only a little. Now their path was clear and they could leave and cross the Entrance Hall without being jostled by rowdy students. They were just passing the marble staircase, watching the last of stragglers make their way upstairs, when they heard a commotion from one of the upper floors. Snape whipped out his wand.

"Something's going on," he muttered. "Stay here. I'm going to see what's happening. Don't move!"

And he disappeared up the stairway, his black robes billowing ominously behind him. Cassandra now stood alone in the empty Entrance Hall. It was cold and eerily quiet, with the only sounds being muffled voices and footsteps from somewhere upstairs. She reached into her robes and grasped the handle of her wand tightly, her eyes darting around the hall. Snape was right- something was going on.

A few moments later, the Slytherin housemaster returned, flanked by several other teachers, and what looked like the whole of Gryffindor house behind them. The expression on his face was curious – a look of concern mingled with suppressed triumph.

"Black's been in the castle," he told her, taking her by the wrist and pulling her out of the way of the mass of Gryffindors. "He slashed the fat lady in attempt to break into Gryffindor tower."

"Did he get in?" gasped Cassandra, her heart racing.

"No," said Snape. "And now he's disappeared. We're going to have to search the entire castle."

Cassandra felt sick; what on earth was Sirius doing, trying to get into the castle? Did he not know about all the security measures they'd taken against him? Did it not occur to him that he'd never have succeeded? She wasn't worried about them finding him now – if he'd failed, he'd be long gone. Something else, however, dawned upon her. She'd told him if he'd gotten in trouble, if he needed her, that he was to go to her cottage in Hogsmeade and wait for her arrival. He could have gone there; he could be waiting for her right now. She had to help him. She had to get out of the castle.


	7. Chapter 7

_Ah amour! Ok, so here is chapter seven and it is here that the story starts to live up to its category of "Romance". I've tried soooo hard to avoid a cushy Mary-Sue style story here and I really hope it shows._ _I mean...they deserve some happiness don't they? _

_Anyway, let me know. _

Chapter Seven

Cassandra glanced around, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Though there was a unified mask of calmness on each of their faces, she could tell the teachers were deeply perturbed. She decided now, amidst the confusion, was the best time for her to slip away. Quietly, she turned to Snape, who was still standing beside her, aiding Professor McGonagall.

"I need you to accompany me to the gates," she whispered, pulling carefully on his sleeve so as to drag him away from the ears of the crowd.

"Now?! Why?" he asked, regarding her suspiciously, his black eyes boring into her.

"My house elves are alone in the cottage," she informed him, trying her utmost to sound desperate. "They've been terrified ever since Black's escape that he'll come after me. If they find out he's been in the castle, they'll be distraught! I can't have them running amok and alerting the Ministry."

"I understand," muttered Snape, though he did not sound convinced. He glanced around – the staff were busy hounding students into the Great Hall. "Come then, let's go now before we're missed."

He took her by the arm and steered her out of the Entrance Hall and through the great front doors of the castle. The air outside was cold and crisp, and Cassandra regretted not picking up her cloak. What was more, she could feel the icy tingle of nearby Dementors on her skin. Still, she thought, it was only a short distance to the gates. From there, she could apparate straight to her house and not be troubled by them.

"Keep your wand out," Snape instructed her, as they approached the perimeters of the grounds. "He could still be out there somewhere."

"Oh, Severus, he's not interested in me," she assured him. "It's Potter he's after, we know that."

"All the same," said Snape sternly. "You don't know what's running through his head. He attacked one of the oldest paintings in Hogwarts to get to Potter. What would stop him attacking you?"

He used his own wand to unlock the gates, ignoring the Dementors that were clamouring excitedly around the boar-topped posts.

"Will you be returning?" asked the potion's master. His eyes were glittering with intrigue in the low light of the moon and Cassandra could tell he was suspicious of her motives. He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "Do you wish me to open the floo portal in my office?"

"No," she replied, as gently as she could. "I may have to stay with them for the night. It's best if you don't."

Snape's expression grew ever more distrustful. Cassandra knew she was playing a dangerous game; Snape was no idiot and she already knew, from his obsession with Lupin, that he was persistent with his suspicions. She knew she had to do something to put him off. She laid her hand on his arm and attempted what she hoped was a beseeching tone.

"There are things in that house that are _contra banned_, Severus," she whispered. "Had I suspected that Black would have the nerve to come here, I might have

protected them better. Yet that house is vulnerable. And he knows I'm here! Should he try to break in…he could find all sorts of things that would _aid him to his end."_

She gave Snape a hard, pointed look, whilst taking care to conceal her true thoughts. This was a downright lie. There were no unscrupulous, Dark artefacts in her home. But if he thought there were, she imagined, it might throw him off the scent of what she was really trying to hide.

"Do what you have to do," he said silkily. "I will tell the Headmaster you have gone to tend to your servants. However we will discuss this further tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Severus," she whispered gratefully. In a last ditch attempt to avert his attentions, she planted a brief yet gentle kiss on her mentor's cheek. It took a great deal of strength not to giggle at the blatant surprise on his face, as it turned a muted shade of pink. With that, Cassandra slipped out of the gates and disapparated.

The cottage looked quiet when she arrived at the end of the winding path. The curtains were drawn and only one room, the living room, appeared to be lit. Her breath baited and her wand still raised, Cassandra removed her key from the folds of her robes and placed it silently into the lock. She did not know what to expect. Since the attack, she had not been able to return to her room. If Mishka had tried to contact her, she could not have known.

She opened the door and stepped softly into the hallway. The door to the living room was open and light from the candles was flooding out into the dark passage, illuminating the familiar profile of Mishka as she stood, soundless, in doorway, staring at her mistress with a look of pronounced fear. This could mean only one thing – he was here. Cassandra closed and locked the front door and sealed it with a anti-eavesdropping spell.

"Mistress has a guest," was all the house elf said, as she stepped back to allow Cassandra into the living room. Sitting on her old chintz divan, in the middle of the abnormally tidy room, was a great, shaggy dog. She let out a sigh of relief and rushed forwards, just as the dog began to transform back into a man.

"You fool," she whispered, flying into his arms and embracing him tightly. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I wanted to get Peter," he muttered gruffly, stiffening in her embrace. She let him go and stood back to gaze at him. He was as thin as ever, with his robes hanging ragged and filthy from his almost skeletal frame. His hair was still as long and matted as it had been when she last set eyes on him.

"But now they're looking for you," she sighed, sitting down roughly on the divan. "Now they're on their guard."

"They were on their guard anyway," Sirius responded irritably. He threw her a sullen scowl, which made his face look even more skull-like. Cassandra gazed at him sadly, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.

"Look at you," she whispered. "Look at what he's done to you."

She embraced him again, this time burying her face in his matted mane. He smelt musky and unclean but she did not care. Months of worrying about him had weakened her resolve and for the moment all she wanted was to keep him safe by her.

"Don't cry," he whispered hoarsely, his bad mood softening. "Not on my account. I'm fine."

Yet his words only made her want to cry more. She let out a miserable sob, clutching desperately at his ragged attire.

"How is it fair?" she whispered through her tears. "How is it fair that he gets to walk free after what he did, and you…you and I…"

Her words faltered and she crumpled upon Sirius's shoulder, shaking with uncontrollable whimpers. His bony arms fastened around her and he kissed the top of her head delicately.

"That's why I'm here," he said, his voice still hoarse. "I'm here to put things right and to make sure my godson is safe."

Cassandra lifted her head and smiled, wiping away the tears that were still trickling down her cheeks. He was right, of course. There was a point to all this suffering; soon the truth would be known and he would be free.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he teased. "Shouldn't you be up at the castle with Snivellus?"

"How do you know about that?" she gasped.

"I hear a lot of things lurking around here," he laughed huskily, squeezing her as much as his weak form would allow. "Apparently, he's been boasting about his new apprentice. Trust a Slytherin to go back to do more potions!"

Cassandra gave him a playful shove, though she was careful not to be too rough. Fully grown man or not, Sirius looked rather frail and she did not want to set him back by hurting him.

"I have one night," she told him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I fed Severus some lie about having to protect my assets. He let me go but I think I'm in for it in the morning. So… will you be staying?"

She glanced up and met his eyes. There was a glimmer of promise there, along with an expression of intrigue that had passed over his gaunt features. He gave her a jaunty smile.

"I think one night off from my feral existence shouldn't do any harm," he replied, airily.

Cassandra smiled in return and kissed him softly on his cheek. Then she turned and scanned the room for her house elf. Mishka was standing sheepishly in the doorway, observing Sirius with an expression of deep mistrust.

"Mishka," she called, "will you start dinner, please? I think our guest requires a bath before we eat."

She flashed Sirius a sideways glance: his eyes had widened and there was a look of pleasant surprise, almost wonder, upon his face.

"How long does mistress require?" asked Mishka, looking from Sirius to Cassandra and back again with apparent confusion.

"I think half an hour should be plenty of time," Cassandra smiled, turning once more to Sirius, who looked somewhat dumfounded. He waited until the elf's shuffling footsteps had retreated down the hall before he said a word.

"A bath?" he repeated, wide-eyed, as though he'd only just realised what this entailed. "Really?"

"Yes," she laughed, pulling playfully on his hair. "Unless you don't want one?"

"Oh I do," he replied, grinning truly for the first time. "Very much so."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed Chapter Seven! I know it was short, but I had to split this section up a bit and it was the only cohesive way to do so. _

_Right, here is Chapter Eight for your entertainment and once more it continues the romantic themes of the previous chapter. There's a few suggestive thingies in here but most of it's pretty tame. Again, I tried to keep it realistic and I hope it shows. Enjoy! _

Chapter Eight

Cassandra's bathroom was the only part of the cottage she had changed upon moving in. She could live with small and quaint quite happily in any another room in the house, but her bathroom she preferred to be spacious and palatial. She'd used an Engorgement charm to triple the size of the room, and then transfigured the tiny, claw-footed bathtub into a small, rectangular pool the size of a double bed. Around the edges, she had fitted many glittering golden taps, which she immediately began to fiddle with upon entering, Sirius in tow.

"I see this wasn't an original feature of the house," he muttered, as he gazed in wonder around the sparkling, white washroom. Cassandra laughed and stood up, allowing the tub to continue filling with hot, soapy water. She slipped her arms around Sirius' waist and kissed him as she had been longing to since she first saw him. Her heart skipped a beat as he pulled her close to him, kissing her back furiously. His lips were as dry and cracked as ever, but it did not matter. A blissful numbness seemed to be taking her legs and she feared she could collapse if he released her. Yet his embrace held as strong as his kiss, powerful and cruel, reminding her of a happiness she so desperately wanted but could not have. Suddenly kissing him became as torturous as missing him and Cassandra found she had to stop.

"What's the matter?" Sirius breathed, reluctantly opening his eyes. Cassandra was gazing at him almost sadly.

"Nothing," she lied, forcing a smile. "Come here."

He obeyed her, though his emaciated body was trembling as he stepped closer. Cassandra only giggled – she knew better than to think he was frightened. Gently but swiftly, she took hold of his ragged robes and in a single movement whipped them over his head. Sirius shivered. She imagined it had been a long time since he had taken them off and there were only a couple of tattered undergarments beneath them. These he removed himself and discarded them carelessly in a corner.

"In you get," instructed Cassandra, smiling at his boldness. She watched him slide into the half full tub and let out a delighted laugh as the hot water splashed over his grimy skin, covering him in thick, pearly foam. He ducked beneath the bubbly surface and emerged again, his hair sodden and dripping into his face.

Cassandra knelt down by the edge of the great bath and turned one of the taps. A thick, sweet-smelling gel oozed out into her hands and she began to rub it vigorously into Sirius's hair. He gave a soft moan and closed his eyes, lounging against the side of the bath.

"That's nice," he murmured croakily. "You have no idea how much I missed this."

"What, you were often bathed by doting members of the opposite sex?" Cassandra quipped.

"Not what I meant," he sighed, splashing her with soapy water and making her shriek. "I just meant the warmth, the water… actually being touched by another person. You don't realise how much you miss these simple things until you don't have them."

"Aw!" Cassandra gave a delighted squeak at his burst of tenderness and she made to hug him round the neck from behind. However, Sirius had grabbed her arms and pulled her so that she tumbled, fully dressed, into the bath next to him.

"Now you're wet too," he observed, grinning fiendishly.

"Oh!" cried Cassandra, looking down at her velvet robes, which were now sodden and covered in bubbles. "Oh, that was sneaky! Look at me, I'm soaked!"

"What can I say: I'm a criminal," Sirius smiled and he laughed at her expression of mild outrage. She attempted to splash him but he caught her hand in his own and held it tight, with remarkable strength for a man so thin.

"I need to fatten you up," she murmured, examining each bony finger on his claw-like hand. "This won't do at all."

"Well," grinned Sirius, "finish scrubbing, girl, and we can get right to it."

Cassandra smiled at his sheer cheek. It was a side of him she'd rarely seen in Azkaban and, despite him being on the run, it was good to see him regaining a sense of humour. Deciding he was right, she picked up a soft sponge from the side of the bath and saturated it with a thick, green soap from one of the taps. Then, manoeuvring carefully for her heavy, wet robes, she pressed the sponge tentatively to his skin and began to cleanse him.

It was an intense and intimate task. Every stroke of the sponge across his thin form made him gasp and quiver. Sometimes he would twitch before she had even touched him, out of sheer anticipation. When she washed the back of his neck, she could feel the heat of his breath upon her face and actually hear his heart pounding in his chest. Their two bodies became enticingly close yet never actually touched, which only increased the excitement that flickered between them like electricity. When the time came to wash Sirius's more personal areas, Cassandra was so overcome with apprehension and fascination that he had to take the sponge from her and perform the act himself, returning it to her with kindly smile and the smallest of winks. His back she had left until last purposefully, for she had an interesting method planned in her head. Instead of simply asking him to turn, she approached him from the front and put her arms around him, so she was pressed tightly against his meagre chest, looking up into his eyes as she pressed the sponge gently against his shoulders and allowed the warm water to trickle down his back.

"I like that," he told her, almost breathlessly, giving her the softest of smiles.

"I though you might," she responded. She did not once look away from his eyes, so hollow and deadened despite the tender look on his face. They were a little sunken, with grey-black shadows encircling them. Whether this was Azkaban or simply exhaustion she could not tell, but she assumed the latter as she addressed him. "Poor Sirius," she whispered. "You look so very tired. At least for this one night you can sleep peacefully."

"I cannot remember the last time I slept peacefully," he admitted, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Cassandra longed to kiss him back yet she refrained; there would be time enough later when he was dry and dressed and comfortably fed. She also needed to get out of her sodden robes, which were now becoming cold as well as heavy.

"You'll do," she smiled. She pulled her wand from her damp pocket and summoned one of the fluffy, white towels that were folded on a hamper in the corner. Sirius hopped out of the bath and drew the towel around him with a hearty sigh.

"It's warm!" he exclaimed, pressing it tightly to him. Cassandra also got out of the bath, sending a great wave of soapy water across the floor from her saturated robes. Awkwardly she pulled them off, for they were weighty when wet and sticking to her skin, aware of the glances that she was receiving as she stood in naught but her damp underwear.

"Right," she said, ignoring Sirius's blatant stare. "I need to go and change. Why don't you dry up and throw on one of those dressing gowns there on the door – there should be a men's one. Leave your robes and I'll have my house elf do what she can with them."

Sirius responded with an indistinct grunt; Cassandra laughed.

"All right," she smiled, pushing back her hair. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes."

_Note - giggles I'd love to know how many of you spotted the word "engorgement" in the first paragraph and thought I was going somewhere else... _


	9. Chapter 9

_Hi everyone, hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Here's chapter nine. It's another lovey dovey one - forgive me! I had to let them have a few moments of happiness before...well, you'll see. _

_This is a very long chapter by the way and I apolgise for that. Unlike the previous long chapter, which I turned into both chapters 8 and 9, this one does not have a natural split so I just left it as it is. Enjoy!_

Chapter Nine

Sirius was already sitting at the dining table when Cassandra arrived downstairs, newly dressed in a flowing gown of imperial purple, which contrasted oddly with his fluffy white bathrobe.

"A vision, as ever," he said hoarsely, as she entered the room. "Come Beauty – sit with your beast."

Cassandra giggled and took up a chair next to Sirius.

"Don't be silly," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I am no beauty and you are no beast."

"You say that now…" he grinned, taking a drink from the silver goblet in front of him and dodging the swipe from Cassandra. "Mmm… this is good. Your elf brought it in a moment ago but I didn't catch what it was"

Cassandra sniffed the contents of the goblet and smiled.

"It's strawberry and elderflower wine," she informed him. "An old Starr family recipe – very tasty and low in alcohol, so you won't get too drunk."

"Shame," Sirius muttered, still grinning. "There's another feeling I miss."

At that moment, the door from the kitchen swung open and Mishka entered, with several large, covered platters floating along in front of her.

"Dinner is ready, mistress," the elf squeaked proudly. "Mistress is not making any requests, so Mishka is cooking roast turkey and beef Wellington, with two types of potatoes and trimmings. There is also summer pudding and apple charlotte for dessert, should mistress require it."

The floating platters settled themselves on the table and their silver coverings vanished, revealing the sumptuous dishes underneath. A large, hovering knife began to carve up the turkey before their eyes.

"Would mistress also like some wine?" asked Mishka, graciously. She snapped her long fingers and an ornate glass decanter appeared in her hands.

"Yes, please," Cassandra answered, conjuring up another silver goblet. "Would you leave the bottle, in case we require some more?"

She cast a glance to Sirius beside her, who was staring at the food as though he'd never seen any before in his life.

"Tuck in," she told him, smiling kindly. "It's all for you anyway – I ate at the feast ages ago."

Sirius gave her a grateful grin and then dived at the dishes before him, ignoring completely the serving forks and spoons and using his hands. He grabbed a bit of everything and piled up his plate, before beginning to devour it all in a remarkably dog-like fashion. Mishka looked scandalised.

"Give him a break," Cassandra whispered to the elf, who seemed to be taking the manner-less destruction of her work as an insult. "He's not eaten properly in over a decade."

Mishka said nothing, but returned to the kitchen wearing an expression of repressed offence.

"Thish ish good schtuff," exclaimed Sirius thickly, through a great mouthful of roast potato. "Your elf schure can cook!"

"Did you hear that Mishka?" Cassandra called to the kitchen door. "Our guest likes your cooking!"

"Thank you kindly, good sir," Mishka called in response, though she did not sound like she meant it one bit.

"Don't worry," said Sirius, swallowing noisily. "I'm used to animosity from house elves. Even my own doesn't like me."

He flashed his hostess a grin before disappearing under his mountain of food again. Cassandra couldn't help but laugh, despite the fact she found the scene quite endearing. She knew that people took what they had for granted, but seeing such pleasure come from something as mundane (to her, at least) as a good meal really brought it home. She sat quite patiently and watched as Sirius ravenously consumed almost all the food on the table, a feat that took a mere half an hour to complete. When he was finally satisfied, all that was left was a handful of carrots, several roast potatoes and a small portion of turkey meat. Cassandra was impressed.

"Wow," she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows to the ceiling. "You really were starving, weren't you?"

"Yes, but I shouldn't have done that," he groaned, rubbing his stomach. "I don't think I'll be able to move for a week. Are you sure you couldn't bug Snivelly for a few more days off?"

Cassandra laughed and shook her head.

"I take it that means you don't want any dessert?" she teased, prodding him hard in the abdomen. Sirius seemed to weigh this up quite seriously before answering.

"Perhaps later," he winked. "I think I'd burst if I ate anything more right now."

"In that case," Cassandra smiled, "let's move next door and relax."

She led a sluggish Sirius into the living room, which was still unnaturally tidy owing to its lack of use. She settled herself on the sofa and allowed him to lie across it, his head resting on a cushion in her lap.

"Do you know how long it's been since I lay on something like this?" he said, gently. "I think I actually forgot what comfort felt like."

"Is this making it worse?" Cassandra asked, as she began to toy gingerly with his hair. "I mean, is it going to be even harder going back out there now after this? Am I making it more difficult?"

"Are you kidding?" Sirius grinned, closing his eyes lazily. "The thought of you makes everything bearable. Just knowing I have someone here to help me… I've not had that in a long time."

Cassandra smiled again, giving his hair a playful tug. He sighed and took her hand in his own, placing it on his heaving belly; she began to rub up and down, massaging his sparse flesh through the towelling of the robe.

"Better?" she asked him.

"Much better," he said, suppressing a large burp. "You know, James used to do this for Lily when she was pregnant."

"Did she growl like you do?" Cassandra laughed, giving him another teasing poke.

"No," he admitted, grinning again. "I think that's a left over dog trait."

He fell silent for a moment, apparently lost in thought. When he spoke again, the playful humour was gone from his voice and he sounded much more pensive.

"You think I'd make a good dad some day?" he asked, opening his eyes and staring up at Cassandra. "You know, one day… if I manage to clear my name."

"If you're a good a dad as you are a godfather to Harry, I think you'll be a natural," she replied softly, her heart fluttering excitedly at the very question. As though he'd sensed her private reaction, Sirius gave her a jaunty wink before closing his eyes again.

"Why can't it be like this all the time?" he sighed. "I barely even worry about Peter when I'm with you. I barely worry about anything."

"That's exactly why," said Cassandra bitterly. "Because I'll distract you. That and…well, if you stay here, it'll only be a matter of time before the Ministry catch you. We're taking a huge risk by just spending one night together. Any more would be certain doom… and I don't think I could bear it if they sent you back to Azkaban."

"I think Azkaban would be a lucky outcome if they caught me," Sirius murmured. "All those Dementors out there longing to-"

"Don't! Please, I can't stand to think of it," Cassandra begged. "It's awful."

"Come on, I'm smarter than that," he responded, squeezing her free hand reassuringly. "They've not stopped me yet."

For a short while, they remained together in silence, Sirius lying peacefully across Cassandra's lap as she massaged his stomach. The only sound to be heard was the whistling of the frosty wind as it blew out crisp October and brought in the icy first of November. Occasionally, the blossom tree in the garden would rap softly on the window, though they paid it no heed. Sirius was lost in blissful relaxation; Cassandra was lost in thought of him as she gazed down at him in her lap.

He was handsome once, she noted, observing his now gaunt and almost skull-like face. She could still see it. He had magnificent cheekbones, even if they did stick out a bit; after all, that was only because he was thin. His mouth, though dry and cracked, was an inviting shape and showed great promise should he be restored to health. She smiled. All he needed was a comfy bed and a few good, square meals…and perhaps a decent comb – she had not yet managed to get the tangles from his hair.

"What are you staring at?" he mumbled suddenly; she hadn't noticed him open his eyes.

"You," she replied honestly, stroking the side of his face with her unoccupied hand.

"Turned to stone yet, have you?" he asked, smirking. "I'm not the looker I used to be, y'know. I nearly screamed when I saw myself in that mirror of yours."

"Now you're exaggerating," laughed Cassandra. "You're just a little underfed. It could be an awful lot worse."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I could look like Snivelly. Now that would be a tragedy."

"Oh, you're so cruel," she sniffed, resisting the urge to smile. "He's not like that, you know. If you gave him a chance…"

"Aw, I'm sorry," Sirius grinned. "I forgot you had a crush on him! Is that why you took up the job at Hogwarts? It wasn't for me was it? It was for Snivelly! You wanted to act out your sick schoolgirl fantasies on him! "Ooh! Ooooooh! Sevvy, yes!"-"

"Stop it!" cried Cassandra hotly and Sirius began to laugh, showing all his teeth. Cassandra gave him a shove but he deflected it quite easily, pulling her so that she landed on top of him.

"Oh, stop it," she sighed again, and she leant in close to his face. He ceased laughing immediately, though a twisted sort of grin still remained on his lips.

"Ooh er," he murmured. "Now this is an interesting turn of events. Let's see… what am I supposed to do now? Ah yes… "

Sirius leant forwards and allowed himself a deep but brief kiss, pulling away again just moments later.

"Am I allowed to carry on?" he whispered, his face so close to Cassandra's she could smell the soap on his skin.

"Do you want to carry on?" Cassandra countered. Sirius gave another wicked grin and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Twelve years," he reminded her. "Twelve years and now I have you… wild horses couldn't stop me."

He kissed her again and this time he did not relent, pressing his mouth powerfully against hers, flickering his tongue expertly between her soft, sweet lips.

"Oh, they put you in the wrong house!" Cassandra gasped. "You kiss like a snake!"

Sirius made a low hissing noise and kissed her yet again, swiftly and strongly, one after the other until she was quite breathless. Their embraces in Azkaban had never been this sweet; never had they brought about the flush of passion that Cassandra felt rising in her, as though her very skin were aflame. The simple pressure of his body against hers, the fundamental friction of their two forms writhing together was engulfing. It was as though she had been slipped a Senselessness Solution, for suddenly she didn't care that the Ministry could be on her doorstep at anytime or that thousands of witches and wizards were hunting the man he held in his arms. They were together now and that was all that mattered.

"Shall we take this elsewhere?" Cassandra whispered, relinquishing from their kiss. Sirius smiled and nodded.

"I've not heard that in a while either," he breathed. Cassandra giggled; she focused hard on her bedroom upstairs, making sure she had a good hold on Sirius. Then, there was a popping sound and a brief, peculiar moment of pressure before the pair apparated amidst the satin coverings and the soft hangings of a comfy, four-poster bed. The room was dim, lit only by a pair of candles on the dresser, but neither of them cared.

They began to kiss again. Cassandra broke away from Sirius's hungering lips and began to work her way down his neck, nipping and biting and the sensitive skin just enough to make him quiver. She loosened his robe and travelled further still, brushing her lips across the sweet-smelling flesh of his torso. Every so often she would pause and lavish a particular spot in a bevy of rich, wet kisses. By now she had reached his navel, but before she could rip off the robe entirely, he had rolled over, pulling himself on top of her.

"My turn, I think," he growled, lowering his face to the nape of her neck and taking a large, playful bite. Cassandra let out a husky cry, arching herself against his body. This spurred him and ravenously he kissed his way down her neck to the very top of her cleavage, where he paused teasingly for a moment, drinking in the scent of her perfume, before kissing the soft crevasse savagely. Before she knew what had happened, he had ripped the bodice of her gown open and tossed it quite carelessly over his shoulder.

"Mmm, much better," he murmured, running a covetous hand across the delicate garments beneath. "But not enough I'm afraid. This'll have to go too."

He took her skirt by the hems and pulled, whipping the entire thing over her hips and off at her ankles, revealing a beautiful pair of lace stockings and the tiniest knickers he'd ever laid eyes on. Cassandra flashed him a winning smile.

"I thought you'd like them," she whispered. "There's less to battle with that way."

"Oh, I like the way you think, girl," Sirius muttered. He leant in for another kiss but a loud banging from downstairs stopped him in his tracks.

"What was that?" he hissed, his eyes widening as he strained to listen. There was a brief silence and then it came again.

"Oh my God," moaned Cassandra, flopping back on the pillow in annoyance. "It's the door."

"Great," Sirius muttered. "Just perfect."

"I have to get it, I'm sorry," she mumbled, slipping out from beneath him and retrieving her wand. "I'm supposed to be alone..."

She began to search the room for something to put on over her underwear; her dress was not as easy to get on as it had been to get off. She found her silk kimono hanging on the back of the door and she slipped it on hurriedly, just as the door banged for a third time.

"Sirius, you have to transform," she instructed him frantically. "If they come up here…"

"I know," he sighed, somewhat irritably. Cassandra gave him another brief kiss before slipping out of the bedroom and tearing down the stairs. Mishka was standing in the hallway again, looking frightened.

"Mishka is not knowing who it is, mistress," she said squeakily.

"It's ok," Cassandra sighed. "I'll get it."

Her wand poised in her right hand, she removed the anti-eavesdropping charm from the door and opened it very cautiously. Standing on the dark pathway, looking mildly amused by her skimpy clothing was-

"Severus!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Is everything ok? It's gone midnight, what are you doing out of the castle?"

"I was sent to check on you," the Slytherin housemaster murmured, sounding thoroughly unimpressed with his task. "The Headmaster was concerned you may have been accosted on your way here. I tried to assure him you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself…"

He broke off and gave her a puzzled, searching stare.

"You took a long time to answer the door," he commented, the tone of his voice indicating the slightest hint of suspicion.

"I was just changing," Cassandra responded quickly, certain that her current appearance would be enough to verify that claim. Apparently it was, for Snape did not question her. He simply stood on the step, regarding her somewhat expectantly.

"Oh," said Cassandra, suddenly recalling her etiquette, "would you like to come in? For a drink perhaps?"

"That would be lovely," her mentor responded, giving her an odd, thin-lipped smile.

Cassandra stood back to allow him onto the house. Her heart was racing again. Something told her that Snape suspected something. Why else would he come here to check on her, when he could have easily flooed her or sent an owl? She hoped that he would not ask about her collection of "Dark artefacts", for there was nothing even faintly Dark to show him.

"Would you like a glass of wine or something?" she asked, as she led Snape into her living room. Mishka followed them, conjuring the decanter of strawberry wine into her arms.

"Yes, wine would be nice, thank you," Snape answered, seating himself in the armchair by the fire. Mishka poured him a goblet of the rich, red liquid and pressed it into his spindly hands.

Cassandra perched on the divan and waited for him to begin the conversation.

"So," he said eventually. "I assume you've set your affairs in order?"

"Yes," lied Cassandra, avoiding his pointed stare. "Everything is sealed off and well protected."

"Good," Snape responded, sipping carefully at his wine. "I don't know what it is you have, but I'd advise you to sell it on quickly. As a friend of mine found out a couple of years ago, it can be rather embarrassing to be caught with such a manner of objects."

Cassandra could not believe her ears; surely he hadn't bought the nonsense she'd been feeding him? One look into his fathomless eyes, however, told her he hadn't. There was a glimmer of suspicion there. He knew she was lying about something. She decided to change the subject.

"I take it there was no trace of Black?" she asked, trying to maintain an airy tone.

"None at all," Snape replied. "Though I suppose none of us really expected him to linger. Have you given a thought as to how he may have got in?"

"You think Lupin helped him?" she queried, knowing precisely where he was going. Unsurprisingly, his face split into a twisted smile and his eyes grew triumphant.

"I certainly do," he said, darkly. "How else would this have happened? There is no way Black could have got into that castle unaided. Lupin was helping him, somehow."

"But he was at the feast with us all the time? How could he have-"

"Entirely beside the point! He could have left Black instructions or unlocked some secret passageway before he went to the feast. The possibilities are endless."

"What did you say to Dumbledore?"

"I tried again to express my concerns but he would not hear of it. He insisted that no-one in the castle would be helping Black."

Cassandra tried not to smirk; Snape was partially right. There was someone in the castle helping Black, but it was certainly not Lupin. She began to wonder if he suspected her. He did, after all, know of her visits to Sirius in Azkaban, as many people did. Yet would he be smart enough to figure it out? She glanced at him; he was glaring into the fire, as though he could see Lupin's head amidst the orange flames. She could tell he was thinking hard. Still, she thought, she'd been careful; there were no clues to lead him back to her and Sirius. That she'd made sure of.

"If he's involved in this, Severus," Cassandra told him, "then you'll find some way of pinning it to him. You always do."

"Meaning what?" asked Snape, turning away from the fire and staring hard at her.

"Meaning you're a Slytherin to the core," she smiled. "And the most cunning snake I know. If anyone will catch him, you will."

Snape stared for a moment more, before smiling a sly, thin-lipped smile.

"I'd have thought seven years in my house would have taught you, Cassie: flattery gets you nowhere with me."

"Nonsense," Cassandra snorted. "It got me out of that week of detentions that time in fifth year, when I hexed that Ravenclaw bimbo during the Quidditch final."

Snape smirked. They conversed for ten minutes more, reminiscing about Cassandra's years at school. When the clock on the mantel struck one, the Slytherin housemaster decided it was time to return to the castle.

"You'll be back tomorrow morning?" he asked her, as he stood out on her doorstep preparing to leave.

"Yes," she promised. "I know you have the first years' test to plan; we can get on with that first thing."

"Good," Snape murmured. "Well for now, I'll leave you. Don't forget what I said about selling off those _personal items_."

"I shan't. Goodnight, Severus. Thanks for all your help."

Carefully, and not too quickly – lest she look suspicious – she closed and locked the front door and resealed it with the anti-eavesdropping spell. That had been close, she thought, as she made her way back upstairs. Had he chosen to apparate or, even worse, to floo her, he may have walked right in on her canoodling with an escaped murderer. And that would have fared badly for everyone.

Sirius was still in dog form when she entered the bedroom, curled up at the foot of the mattress and looking distinctly bored.

"You can turn back now," she told him, gently. "He's gone."

The great, shaggy canine lifted its head and transformed back into a man, a man who regarded Cassandra with a curious expression.

"Do you often get late-night house calls from Snivelly?" he asked her, his voice almost sulky. Cassandra laughed and put her arm around his shoulder gently, kissing his matted mane.

"So now you think I'm cavorting with my old teacher?" she laughed. "Don't be silly. He didn't come over to hit on me. He thinks I'm up to something."

"You are," Sirius smiled. "But I'll be damned if he ever figures out what."

"He might," sighed Cassandra. "He's smarter that you give him credit for, you know. I shall have to be careful around him."

Sirius nodded in agreement. There was a peculiar kind of light playing in his deadened eyes and, when he next spoke, there was a flicker of pain tainting his croaky voice.

"I heard him mention Lupin," he began, tentatively, fiddling with the beads on the bedspread. "Did he mean-?"

"Remus?" Cassandra finished. "Yes, he did. I was going to get to that. He's working at the castle too… a professor, no less."

"I did wonder why I kept hearing that name," Sirius muttered. "Fancy that: my pal Remus, a teacher."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" asked Cassandra, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "I mean, he is your best friend. He'd want to know the truth."

"No," replied Sirius, shaking his head. "You can't tell him. It'd be no use. You can't prove it. He won't believe you."

"I believed you," Cassandra said earnestly.

"What does that say about you then?" laughed Sirius, squeezing her hand playfully. "No, I don't want you to say anything. In fact, I forbid you. If you go telling him stories, he'll only suspect you… and I don't want that."

He pulled her to him and kissed her softly on the top of her head. For a moment, he sat like that, he chin resting on top of her head as he breathed in the sweet smell of her black curls, running his boy fingers through them as he'd done in days passed. Then he sighed and got to his feet.

"I should go," he said, sadly.

"No!" Cassandra cried, jumping up and seizing him by the cord of his dressing gown. "You can't go! What about-?"

"You know I can't stay here," he whispered. He caught her and held her arms by her side to stop her from struggling. "You knew it all along. There'll always be someone with suspicions, someone who could walk in here and ruin everything."

"I want you here," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm not going far," he told her. "I never do; I'm always close enough to keep an eye on my interests at Hogwarts.

"Now where's that elf? I need my clothes. Elf!"

Mishka appeared in the doorway, holding a black bundle in her tiny arms.

"Here we are, sir," she said, in a voice that was dripping with animosity. "Mishka has sir's clothes ready."

Sirius snatched up the bundle and began to dress very quickly. Cassandra did nothing to hide her disappointment.

"When will I see you again?" she asked, wiping at her tears with the corner of her silk robe.

"I couldn't say," he sighed. "This isn't about us, Cassie. It's about Harry. He's the reason I broke out."

"I know that," Cassandra whimpered through a fresh wave of sobs.

"See, I don't think you do," muttered Sirius. He stood, fully dressed, in the middle of the bedroom, gazing down at her with a mixture of annoyance and sadness. "You're a wonderful girl, and I appreciate everything you do for me. But this is not about you and me. It's about me saving my godson from that murdering rat bastard. If and when I manage that, then we can focus on ourselves."

Sirius's words cut Cassandra like a knife. She had never thought, never realised that she was being selfish in just wanting one night. Yet apparently, one night away from catching Peter was one night too many. It was clear where his priorities lay. He was right, of course: Harry's safety was foremost. But she'd hoped, along the way…

"Sir speaks most rudely to my mistress!" squeaked Mishka, puffing herself up angrily. "Mistress has sacrificed everything for sir, not that sir deserves it, and now sir has the nerve to make mistress cry!"

Sirius ignored the elf's enraged outburst. He put a hand awkwardly on Cassandra's shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

"Don't get upset," he murmured. "I'll see you again. I just have things to take care of first. Don't go getting yourself into any trouble."

And without another word, Sirius transformed into the huge black dog and leapt out of the bedroom window, landing neatly on the grass in the back garden. This time, Cassandra did not watch him go. She felt as though her heart had just been cleft in two; he'd rejected her, as good as said he didn't care about her. She'd been desperately looking forward to a night with him, even if just to watch him sleeping in her arms. Yet now he was gone. Cassandra wished she could go too. But he didn't want her. She let out a miserable sob and curled up on the bed, burying her face in her pillow.

Mishka the house elf stood in the doorway for a long time, trying to think of something useful she could say to cheer her mistress. Nothing came to her; she could not understand the complexity of her human mistresses emotions. In her eyes, the bad man was mean and her mistress should be pleased that he was gone. But humans, being strange creatures, did not react with a house elf's logic. Eventually, she conceded. She shut and locked the window that the bad man had opened and bade her mistress goodnight, closing the bedroom door as she backed out. For another hour she worked, tidying the house, before she too retired for the night. As she settled herself in her tiny bed, she could have sworn she could still hear her mistress's anguished sobs resonating from across the hallway.


	10. Chapter 10

_My notes are at the end this time guys - you'll understand why when you've read! Enjoy!_

Chapter 10

For the next few weeks, Cassandra heard nothing of Sirius. She could have sworn she'd seen him at the Quidditch match, sitting in his dog form in one of the empty stands. But that was moments before the Potter boy had had his accident, and in the commotion that followed, Cassandra's attentions had been diverted. When she finally looked to the empty stand again, the dog had gone. She was not sure if he'd even been there in the first place; it could just have been her imagination, her mind that so desperately longed to see him again.

The days that led up to Christmas were tainted with misery. For the most part, she buried herself in her work, spending more and more time under Severus Snape's private tutelage. She avoided returning to Meadow Lane as much as she could, in a desperate attempt to suppress the events of Halloween night from her memory. Instead, she would send notes and money packets to Mishka by owl, telling her she was too busy to come home at the present time.

At one point, she contemplated paying a visit to Remus Lupin, though this idea was swiftly abandoned. As far as he was concerned, his former best friend was a mass murderer, so it was likely he'd be reluctant to help Cassandra find him.

Christmas Day soon rolled around, though any chance of joy and festivity appeared to be lost. Not even the prospect of the Christmas feast, which she'd enjoyed so much in her school days, could cheer her. She simply sat in her room, surrounded by a mountain of discarded presents and shredding wrapping paper, feeling as cold and empty as the decorative goblet she'd received from one of her auror friends.

Some time in the afternoon, Snape had knocked on the door and no less than ordered her to come up to the feast.

"You said yourself you enjoyed Hogwarts' festivities," he reminded her, taking her by the arm and pulling her out of her mound of presents. "If I have to suffer through them, you can too."

It was a solitary affair, nothing like the usual loud and jubilant parties. There were no more than fifteen remaining at Hogwarts for Christmas, and Dumbledore had had them all sitting round the one table, making forced conversation and trying his utmost to be cheerful. To make matters worse, Snape slipped into one of his foul moods after pulling a cracker with the headmaster, only for it to reveal an ugly, vulture topped hat, reminiscent of the one his infamous, cross-dressing counterpart had apparently worn in Lupin's boggart lesson.

The feast lasted a painfully long two hours, during which Cassandra and her housemaster sat sullenly side by side, avoiding conversation with anyone, each too busy wallowing in their own self-pity. However when, after the students had gone, Dumbledore announced there was to be a party in the staff room, Cassandra could not resist attending out of sheer curiosity. She had always wondered what staff parties would have been like, and, despite her mood, she was not going to miss her chance to find out. Nor was she going to go alone.

"Oh come on, Severus!" she whined, tugging on the potions master's arm in an attempt to pull him from his seat. They were the only ones left in the Great Hall now; the students were back in their common rooms and the other teachers had already gone up to the party. Snape was being particularly stubborn.

"No," he insisted. "If you want to go so badly, go alone. I've had enough experience of staff parties to know to avoid them."

"Maybe this time you'll enjoy it," Cassandra shrugged. Snape gave a derisive snort. "Oh please!" she pleaded. "I don't want to go by myself, I'm not really a teacher. You _have _to come. If it sucks, we can leave, just please, please come!"

"Oh all right," he snapped, irritably. "But I promise you, it will be a wasted walk to the staff room."

But as it happened, it wasn't. By the time Cassandra and her mentor arrived, the handful of remaining teachers had already conjured up several cases of wine, including half a dozen bottles of Madam Rosmerta's prize mead. The alcohol was already flowing, and a distinct atmosphere of merriment, that had been absent from the feast, was fast filling the room.

"See, this is why I didn't want to come," Snape hissed in her ear. "Every year it's the same; they just drink, and get sillier and sillier-"

"Good, I could use a drink," interrupted Cassandra, snatching up a bottle of mead and a couple of goblets. "And by the sound of it, grumpy guts, so could you. Here, get this down you."

She handed Snape a goblet full to the brim with sweet, amber liquid. He sipped at it cautiously. Cassandra merely laughed.

"What _are_ you doing?" she sighed. She took the goblet from him and drained it in one, long gulp. "There, that's how you do it."

There was a loud cheer from the fireplace; Professors Flitwick and McGonagall raised their glasses in Cassandra's direction and followed her lead, downing them in one.

"Oh please," snarled Snape. "Anyone can do that! It's hardly a skill."

He snatched up Cassandra's empty goblet and filled it again, right to the brim. Then, to her great surprise, he too swallowed the entire glassful in one, fluid movement. There was another, much louder cheer from the fireplace. Snape gave a grim smile.

"Anything they can do, I can do better," he informed Cassandra. And he was right. The remainder of the night fast became a drinking competition between the more daring staff members, namely Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Cassandra.

Dumbledore did not join them, though he agreed to act as referee to their games.

The challenges were simple at first. They began with tasks like "Who can drink a pint fastest?" and "Down a glass then cast a successful Patronus." Yet they steadily became more difficult, with the participants having to drink glass after glass without stopping. Snape proved surprisingly apt at these games. He kept his colleagues on their toes by mixing whiskies and wines and ales in vile concoctions and serving them up as forfeits.

Tiny Professor Flitwick was the first to drop – quite literally - after he was finished off by one of Snape's forfeit cocktails. The remaining players simply banished him to his quarters and carried on without him. Next, to her surprise, was Cassandra herself, who lost at shots against her housemaster when he jinxed her under the table. She found it so funny that she did not complain, and sat back quite happily to watch the last two contestants battle it out.

Snape and McGonagall's final challenge was straightforward enough. They each had five glasses of wine, lined up one after the other. The task was to be the first to drink all their wine then successfully blow up the empty glasses, with only one shot of their wands. When Dumbledore cast the starting shot, McGonagall took a quick lead, downing three of her glasses in less than a minute. For a moment, Cassandra thought she might actually win. Yet Snape caught up to her fast and they both finished their last glassful at the same time, raising their wands to shout the same spell: "_Reducto_!"

Snape's shot hit true and his glasses shattered one after the other. McGonagall's, however, missed and ended up blowing a great chunk out of the table, to cries of triumph from both Cassandra and her competitor.

Soon afterwards, however, Dumbledore called the party to a finish, citing that he did not want his staff too hung over, for Madam Pomfrey was away on holiday. Cassandra could see his point. Both McGonagall and Snape were spectacularly drunk.

"I think that last task rather finished them off, don't you?" the headmaster smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Cassandra had to agree. She slipped an arm around her mentor's shoulder and began to lead him back down to the dungeons.

It was an exceptionally difficult walk, as Snape was much taller than Cassandra and kept flopping over onto her. Despite his near incapacitation, he was fiercely adamant that he was not at all drunk.

"I'm probably more sober than you," he growled, just as he stumbled on the hem of his robes and nearly fell flat on his face. Cassandra, however, caught him and pulled him back.

"Yes, you're probably right," she sighed, not wishing to start an argument.

"Of course I'm right," he mumbled. "I'm always right…"

Cassandra smiled wearily. Far from the typical scenario of drunken "I love you"s, she found her housemaster to be even more callous than he was when he was sober. As they trudged on towards the dungeons, briefly passing Lupin's office, which was dark and quiet, he paused to hurl a stream of abuse at the empty room.

"Sneak!" Snape bellowed at the door, attempting to lunge for it but finding he did not have the necessary control of his legs.

"Shhh!" Cassandra hissed. "You'll wake him!"

"I don't care!" shouted Snape. "He's a sneak! Did you notice he wasn't at the thing…the feast, yes, the feast. I bet he was plotting to help his old friend Black again!"

Cassandra had to use all her physical strength to pull her housemaster away from Lupin's door and to make him carry on to the dungeons. Her heart ached at the mention of Black's name. She had managed not to think about him all evening, what with the hilarity of the staff drinking contest. But now, at the very sound of his name, all the pain and misery she'd been repressing came flooding back. As she half carried Snape down the marble staircase and into the cold corridors of the dungeons, she felt hot tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She wondered if she had irritated him so much that he wouldn't bother her again. She couldn't have, could she? After all, what had she done?

_Exactly, what __**have **__you done?_

A peculiar little voice piped up in the back of her head, a voice that sounded like her own and yet not: it was colder, almost detached, and very, very angry

_You've done nothing but give to that man!_ the voice went on, becoming more and more like a hiss. _He doesn't deserve the tears you cry for him_!

Cassandra shook her head. It wasn't Sirius's fault the way he acted like he did – he had been wrongly imposed for twelve years… and his godson was his first priority.

_Oh yes, his godson that would probably kill him on sight if they met face to face_, came the sneering response in her head. _The boy who thinks he's a murderer over the one woman who fights for him – I can see why he'd make that choice._

Cassandra bit her lip. Actually, it was a fair point. She was the only person who'd ever believed he was innocent and yet she'd been shunted aside for a petulant thirteen-year-old boy! A wave of sickly hot anger passed over her and her face folded into a scowl.

_I'm sorry, my dear, but that's why you get for trusting a Gryffindor. And he's such a typical Gryffindor, don't you think? They're all so alike, marching under the banner of nobility, using the mask of bravery to compensate for their selfishness and cruelty._

"Selfish" – the word buzzed around her head like a disgruntled insect. Yes, that's precisely how Sirius had behaved on Halloween. He'd come to her, bathed in her bathroom, feasted at her table and very nearly used her to complete his binge of satisfaction… Then once he'd had his fill, he scampered without so much as a thank you.

_Your house elf was right in what she said, _the voice crowed_. You have sacrificed everything for him: your career, your noble family home, your reputation… and he just defecated on it and handed it back to you. Yet it is still you that cries for him?_

By now, Cassandra as filled with a deep and bubbling rage. He'd used her! He'd played her for an idiot! She could have gone to Azkaban for what she'd done…and all for a stinking, lying Gryffindor like him?

As quickly as it had come, the heat of her fury left her and an empty, bitter coldness took its place. Her eyes flashed with visions of vengeance. _No one plays Cassandra Starr_, she thought angrily, as the voice in her head laughed with triumphant glee. _I will make you hurt as I have been hurt. But how?_

The answer was standing right next to her, leaning against a stone pillar in a vain attempt to regain his balance - Snape. Sirius hated her mentor with a passion. Perhaps a little _friendly competition_ with an old rival would remind Sirius of much she was worth.

_It's perfect,_ her little voice confirmed. _If Severus boasts about you as much as Black says, he's bound to hear about it._

This seal of approval from her subconscious spurred her. She would make him pay- the hard way… the Slytherin way.

She turned around to face her former teacher, who was still clutching the pillar as though it were his last shred of pride. The dungeon corridor was quiet; no one would come by and disturb her. Now was as good a time as any.

It seemed as though Snape had noticed the frightening change of expression on Cassandra's face, as though he'd seen her mingled fury melt into a mask of feigned hunger. He tensed as an animal might under the gaze of a predator and, for an amusing moment, Cassandra thought he was going to pull his wand on her. Yet he didn't; she lunged, pressing him to the pillar tightly with her bosom. Her mouth locked onto to his and she kissed him almost violently. Snape did not respond at first, though after a moment his hands circled Cassandra's waist rather lamely and his tongue began to fight hers back. It was a cold kiss; a cruel, vengeful gesture absent of love or even lust. In any other circumstance, it would have repelled her. Yet she was filled with a burning wrath, which fired her and fuelled her onwards.

Yet not even a minute had passed before Cassandra felt a hot pain in her stomach and she found herself flying backwards and onto the stone floor. Snape stood over her, his wand arm outstretched and pointing at where she'd been standing moments before.

"Do not mock me!" he snarled, a foul mixture of anger and embarrassment upon his face. He was still swaying somewhat on his feet; apparently even his drunkenness did not detract from his self-loathing sense of paranoia. "How dare you mock me!"

"What makes you think I'm mocking you?" Cassandra asked, clambering to her feet and doing her best to hide her annoyance. "I'm being perfectly sincere, Severus."

In an attempt to prove her point, she approached him again, this time much more slowly, reassuringly. Snape lowered his wand, allowing her to press herself against him once more. She brushed a hand delicately against his cheek and made to kiss him for the second time. However, his bony hand shot out and he placed a finger over her lips. He leant in close to Cassandra's face; she could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the lack of focus in his eyes. For a single fleeting second she felt a rush of excitement, though this was gone in an instant.

"Sincere or not," Snape murmured in a low whisper, "I hardly think this is appropriate behaviour considering my lack of sobriety."

Cassandra gave a snort of disbelief; her eyes widened to reveal their whites.

"I'm sorry," she scoffed, shaking her head in amazement. "Are _you_ declining my advances?!"

Snape's lip curled into a cruel smile. Then, quite suddenly –THWACK! With a harsh sound, Cassandra slapped her mentor across the cheek with all the strength and fury she could muster. One rejection was enough for her, but two? And from him?! She raised her hand again, preparing to strike another blow, but Snape caught her by her wrist and held her tightly. Once more came that rush of peculiar excitement. Cassandra lurched forwards and attempted to kiss him again. Cruelly, he let her, allowed her to wrap herself around him in triumph before he punctured her again and threw her to the ground.

"If you are sincere, Cassandra," he told her coldly, as he turned his back on her figure, sprawled on the floor, "you can try and play your games when I am sober enough to deal with you, though I cannot guarantee that you will get any further than you did tonight."

"You swine," hissed Cassandra, as tears of anger and frustration began to trickle down her cheeks. "You rotten old miser!"

"Now, now, be careful what you say," Snape muttered, and he began to stumble away down the corridor towards his quarters. "You never know what I might remember come tomorrow."

And he gave a nasty laugh as he hobbled away, still leaning on the walls as he went, if a little proudly. Cassandra sent of few jets of sparks after him in a temper.

"Swine!" she shouted again, though it was useless; he had rounded the corner and gone out of earshot. .

Tears of miserable fury streaming down her face, she followed her housemaster's example and returned to her room. Her bed was still piled high with presents, which she swept roughly onto the floor in her anger. This time she really had done it. Over the pain of her humiliation, she felt a pang of shame and guilt. Suddenly her plan did not seem so clever. Suddenly her actions seemed foolish and immature, not to mention small-minded. How could she have thought revenge would have worked? He was a Gryffindor, after all! Furious at herself, she climbed into her bed, fully clothed, and proceeded to strangle her pillow. Now she'd jeopardised everything: if Sirius found out, everything she'd sacrificed would have been in vain.

_A.N. - Ok, please don't hate her. It was a silly thing to do, yes, but what can I say? She was not only a woman scorned but a Slytherin scorned, and I imagine that to be twice as dangerous! _

_I did my best to keep Snape in character here. Obviously when he's drunk he's bound to be different from what he's usually like, though I imagine he woul;d still retain his old sarcasm and self-loathing. I'm not sure if that corroborates with what you think but hey, I tried. _

_Also...I've always loved the idea of staff parties. They must have them! How dull would it be if they didn't? _

_Hope you enjoyed it. _


	11. Chapter 11

_Howdy all and thanks for the wonderful reviews of chapter ten! Glad you enjoyed it. _

_Not a moment too soon, here is chapter eleven for your viewing pleasure. I have to warn you that chapter twelve might be a while to follow, owing to it not being written yet (ahem...what? I'm a busy girl! ) but I'll do my best! Enjoy!_

Chapter Eleven

The morning of Boxing Day dawned and Cassandra felt no better. She was tired and irritable, having tossed and turned all night long, unable to sleep. When it was finally a decent hour, she gave up on slumber and decided to check on Snape. It was imperative to find out what he remembered of last night. Stepping over the pile of broken gifts and wrapping paper that surrounded her bed, she threw on a cloak, picked up her potions kit and made her way to her mentor's quarters.

As she expected, he was rather worse for wear upon opening the door. There were heavy, grey rings around his eyes and he looked even paler than usual standing in his grey nightshirt.

"Are you here to tell me what I did last night that made me feel like this?" he groaned, irritably. Cassandra smiled and stepped past him into his parlour. From the looks of things, he had not slept much either. There was a heap of tangled blankets on his leather sofa and a pot of tea was steaming on the table nearby.

"That better be your be your potions bag, Cassandra," he said, settling himself in the blankets with a moan of pain. "I'm fresh out of elixir of Vervain."

"I thought you might be," she responded, She bypassed him and began setting up a cauldron in the already roaring fire. "That's why I came over. Is it bad?"

"Awful," he muttered. "I blame you."

"Me?" she exclaimed, her heart skipping several beats. "Why?"

"You were the one who dragged me to that infernal party," he growled, as he poured himself tea. "And, as I recall, you were the one who started the damned drinking contest."

"How much of that do you remember?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"I can't remember anything after when Flitwick passed out," he admitted. Cassandra breathed a silent sigh of relief. That meant he would not remember their kiss and, though that did nothing for her guilt, she would not have to worry about it affecting their working relationship.

"Right," she said, a little more cheerfully. "If the patient would like to take a seat and explain to me the symptoms…"

"Ha bloody ha," Snape growled. "I'd imagine you're rather familiar with the symptoms Cassandra – the pounding headache, the sickening nausea, the dizziness…in fact, I'm surprised you managed to escape them."

"Well, I wasn't the one who drank six glasses of wine, one after the other."

Cassandra smirked at him as she began to throw ingredients into her cauldron, stirring them casually with her wand. She narrowly dodged the teacup that went sailing past her head with great speed.

"I _told_ you we shouldn't have gone," he snarled, looking as though he wanted to cuff her, though thinking better of it once he realised how much effort this would take. "And that's too much belladonna: take some out."

"I pray forgiveness, your highness," muttered Cassandra under her breath, though keeping a weather eye for anymore teacups. She fiddled around with the potion for a little longer, ignoring Snape's dramatic moans and groans from the sofa. It did not take her long to brew up the draught she needed; she was surprised Snape had not done it himself.

"Here you go, grumpy," she announced, handing him a goblet of the steaming purple liquid. She took a seat at the end of his sofa and watched him drain the potion in one long gulp.

"Urgh!" he declared, giving her back the empty vessel. "Still too much belladonna."

He hiccoughed and for a moment Cassandra thought he was going to be sick.

"Don't throw it up!" she warned. "It won't work otherwise. Here, lie down…"

Snape gave another suffering moan and slumped back against Cassandra's chest, casually, as though it were something he did regularly.

"This is all your fault," he growled again, glaring up at her. Cassandra merely smiled. Looking into his fathomless eyes reminded her of the thrill she'd felt last night, the rush of excitement as she'd struggled with him. It was a peculiar thing, to enjoy such a sadistic form of romance; surely a Slytherin trait. No Gryffindor could understand the thrill of a physical tussle, the effect of pursuing something seemingly unattainable. If it wasn't bad enough that she'd kissed him, she'd actually, in some sick way, enjoyed it, and that made her guilt worse.

It only took a little while for the potion to kick in and soon Snape was fast asleep, his back against her chest. Cassandra left him napping on his sofa and decided to finally pay a visit to her cottage in Hogsmeade.

This time, she walked the short distance from the castle to the village, relishing the icy winter wind that whipped her hair and face. Her eyes stung and watered but she did not care. It's no less that I deserve, she thought bitterly, glancing at the forbidden forest as she passed it. He was in there somewhere, hiding from the cold and those that sought to hurt him; he, the man she'd betrayed.

Mishka the house elf was ecstatic to Cassandra return.

"Mistress, Mishka has been very worried!" she squeaked, as Cassandra removed her coat and scarf in the hallway. "Mishka was frightened they was overworking mistress!"

"No, Mishka, they weren't," Cassandra sighed. "It was just a little busy, that's all. Nothing to worry about."

She abandoned her outdoor clothing and made her way into the living room, slumping down into the softest armchair. She had to try very had not to think of the last night she had been here, the night she had almost spent with Sirius…

"Mishka will make mistress some cocoa," the house elf was saying happily. "Mistress looks cold."

Cassandra felt cold, though it had little to do with the frosty weather outside. It was a horrible, internal sort of chill that seemed to begin in her heart and emanate outwards, seizing her entire body in a peculiar numbness. She knew it was her own fault. She followed her silly, impassioned impulses at the wrong time and had probably made matters worse.

"Oh, mistress," came Mishka's voice again as she shuffled back into the room, carrying something behind her back. "This arrived yesterday morning."

She handed Cassandra a bunch of fragrant wild flowers, which had been tied together with a long piece of grass. Tucked in the middle of the little bundle was a card; or rather, a piece of parchment folded in half with a dirty paw print on the front. Cassandra nearly dropped the flowers as she fumbled, heart racing, to open it. Inside was a message.

_Cassandra,_

_I'm so sorry. Your elf was right. You've sacrificed everything for me – your home, your career, your reputation… and I just took that for granted. I don't know anyone else who would do that, who would be as patient as you've been with me. I really appreciate it, you know. When this is all, over I shall make it up to you._

_I meant what I said about Harry being a priority. But you're my priority too. From now on, I promise I will take better care of you both._

_Sorry this took so long for me to say. You'd be surprised how hard it is to steal a quill._

_I miss you and I can't wait to hear from you. Write to me. Please_

_S._

_x x x_

Cassandra felt physically sick. Why had she not received this a day earlier? If she'd had know this, then no way would she have kissed Snape. Someone out there truly hated her. That, or they just did not want her and Sirius to be together.

She couldn't even bring herself to cry. She had to write something back, she knew it, but what could she say? Should she tell him? No, she decided. That would be the sort of stupid, noble thing a Gryffindor would do. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and as long as she kept her mouth shut, he never would. Severus recalled nothing, that was clear, and she could cope with her own private guilt so long as she learned from it.

Biting her lip in anguish, she conjured up a quill and some parchment and began to write a reply.

_My darling,_

_You have no need to apologise to me. Your actions were not intended to hurt- I know you were only trying to do what's best._

_We can be together without neglecting Harry, you know. You don't have to feel so guilty about doing something for yourself every once in a while. You've suffered for so long; give yourself a break._

_I think I love you, you know. You're all I ever think about. I hope you think about me too. Write back soon._

_With love,_

_Cassandra._

She re-read what she'd written, still gnawing nervously at her lip. There were a million ways she could tell him she loved him, most of which were probably much more articulate or poetic than what she'd written. Yet her letter was honest and heartfelt, much like something she'd say if she told him face to face. She folded the parchment and handed it silently to Mishka, who was standing attentively besides her, having apparently forgotten her bid to make cocoa. The house elf knew what to do. She took the parchment to the kitchen, where a handsome tawny owl was sitting on a gilded perch, preening her brown feathers.

"Come to Mishka, Lamia," the elf coaxed, holding out a long, skinny arm. The owl clicked her beak and swooped down from her perch, landing neatly on Mishka's shoulder. Mishka attached the letter to the bird's leg. "Lamia must go into the forest and find Mr Sirius Black," she instructed squeakily. "Lamia must wait for a while, to see if he replies. If not, she comes home."

The owl gave a soft hoot of comprehension. Then Mishka opened the kitchen window and the great bird took flight, soaring out into the wintry sky, buffeted by the frosty winds.

For the remainder of the afternoon, Mishka attended to her mistress as dotingly as she could. Mostly, Cassandra said and did very little. She simply sat in her armchair, gazing into the flames that were crackling merrily in the fireplace. Occasionally she would speak, though it was usually only to thank Mishka for the fresh cup of tea. From time to time, she would say things like "Oh, is that the time? I really should get going soon." Yet she never did. Only when the clock struck five and the sky had gone completely dark did she decide to head up to the castle. She had half-hoped that Sirius would have sent her a reply. Then again, she thought, sadly, did she really deserve it?

Once she was bundled up in her coat and scarf, she said farewell to Mishka and apparated back to the Hogwarts gates. They were locked, as they so often were these days, yet it was of no concern to her; Dumbledore had trusted her with the spell to unlock them, which she did, eyeing the two dementors that floated warningly above the gateposts. They paid no attention to her and she passed safely through, trekking carefully up the icy path to the main doors. When she was but metres away, she heard a loud hoot and she stopped dead in her tracks. She glanced nervously around. Out of the darkness of the forest, her faithful owl Lamia flew towards her, dropping a note that she'd held in her beak into Cassandra's gloved hands. Frantically, her heart racing, she fumbled to open the grubby, folded parchment. It read simply:

_I love you too._

_Take care princess._

Cassandra's stomach knotted with guilt.


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello one and all, welcome to Chapter Twelve. Sorry for the delay - I've been a busy bee as of late. _

_This chapter is a little unusual, I know. I did want to do the whole thing as a epistolery, just to mark the passage of time between Christmas and Spring. But it didn't quite work, so I had to throw some narrative in there. Hope you like it anyway! _

_BTW thanks to Glynnis007 for reminding mr of Sirius's cute pen-name. It came in handy here! _

Chapter Twelve

**Dear Cassie, **

**I'm missing you dreadfully. Though living like this is like living in a palace compared to Azkaban, it is still not preferential. It's cold, unsurprising given that it's still winter, and food is much scarcer this time of year. Don't worry yourself though; I'm managing fine. **

**There's been no sign of Peter recently, though I must say I'm limited at the moment as to how much I can watch out for him. My new accomplice, who I mentioned in my last letter, tells me he's faked his own death…again.** **Coward! He must have twigged by now that it's him I'm after. **

**I don't know yet when I'll next be able to see you (rumour has it that security's tightened again) but I'll say this much – I can't wait for it. Halloween night was like a glimpse into heaven. When this is over, I want every night to be like that night. We won't have to hide anymore. **

**Much love, **

**Snuffles.**

* * *

_26__th__ January _

_Dear Snuffles, _

_For once the rumours that buzz round here are finally true. Security is getting tighter and I fear that once again I'm under the scrutiny of the Ministry. I couldn't say for sure but there are little things that lead me to believe that they suspect me. _

_Last weekend, when I was walking back from the castle, I had the strangest feeling I was being followed. You know how it is, when someone's breathing down your neck? You don't need to turn around to know that they're there. I was looking over my shoulder every few minutes but I saw no one. They were probably using a Disillusionment Charm or something. It really spooked me though. The moment I got home I locked all the doors and sealed them just to make sure. _

_Then, a few days later, I was coming back from the Great Hall with Severus and I saw someone I'd never seen in the castle before coming up from the dungeons. Even though we get our fair share of visitors, I was suspicious. And I was right to be. I went straight to my quarters and it was obvious that someone had been in there; all my things had moved and there was fresh snow on my rug! I knew, from that moment on, that I wasn't imagining it. They're watching me again. _

_Yet all of this is only a minor inconvenience to me, compared to the trouble it'll mean for you if they find you. Be careful. Please, Merlin, be very careful! Don't try anything. I don't want you to go back to Azkaban. _

_Take care of yourself, _

_Cassie. _

* * *

**14****th**** February**

**Dear Cassie, **

**Happy Valentine's Day, princess! If only I were with you right now – I promise you, I'd… well, I think you can imagine well enough. Let's just say I'd make it a Valentine's Day to remember. **

**As much I'm missing you, my concern is your safety. Perhaps it would be better if I didn't contact you for a while? For all we know, they could be intercepting these messages. I know they're not directly incriminating but I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to try and make them so. They need a scapegoat after all, something or someone to draw attention away from the fact that I've slipped through their fingers. I don't want it to be you.**

**Let me know how things are going. **

**Snuffles. **

* * *

_24__th__ February _

_Dear Snuffles, _

_The Ministry have raided my cottage. I came home last night to find no less than twelve Ministry officials tearing my house to pieces. They'd upturned the furniture, pulled everything out of the cupboards, taken my paintings off the walls… Mishka was in complete disarray – I found her hitting herself with an umbrella when I walked through the front door. I had to physically stop her from beating herself black and blue. And still these men carried on pulling the house apart, without so much as an explanation to me. Oh, I was furious! I couldn't speak! Luckily, though I didn't have to: Severus was with me (he'd come back for coffee, nothing more!). _

_He pulled one of the officials to one side and demanded that he told us what was going on. Of course he was evasive – he asked on what ground we were to know, telling us it was official Ministry work and not for civilian knowledge. Only when I told him it was my house he was destroying did he tell me that I was "a priority suspect in aiding the escape of a dangerous wizard" and that, until further notice, I was under arrest. Don't panic – by the end of the night they had found nothing and they had no choice but to let me go and apologise. It's lucky for me that the one thing that they could have used against me – against us – was hidden where they never would have found it – a disused bathroom up at the castle. It's always flooded and this miserable little ghost haunts there so no one ever goes in. I've been hiding my letters in there for weeks now and they've never been touched. _

_I don't want you to worry. The worst of it is over now. They've searched all they can and found nothing so there's no reason to panic. For the moment, however, I've abandoned the cottage. My things are still there (most of them anyway) and I go back now and again at weekends, just to make it look like I'm still staying there; I have no doubt that they're still watching the place. But I don't live there anymore. I stay at the castle full time now, as does Mishka, who I've put to work in the kitchens on Sev's suggestion. She actually seems to be quite enjoying it – I suppose it's nice for her to have other elves to talk to. _

_I want you to male sure you're taking care of yourself. If they've come down this hard on me then I'd imagine they're working pretty hard on finding you too. Be careful darling, as always. _

_All my love, _

_Cassie. _

* * *

**2****nd**** March **

**Dear Cassie, **

**I'm sorry. This is my fault. Just being associated with me has torn your life apart. It's not fair – I didn't want this for you. **

**I don't know how much longer I can take this. It seems my just being around means trouble for everybody. The sooner I can get my hands on that traitorous little rat the better. This can all be over and, maybe, we can have a normal life. **

**Stay safe, princess, and be patient. It won't be long now. **

**Much love, **

**Snuffles. **

* * *

Cassandra re-read Sirius's last note with trepidation. What did he mean by "it won't be long now"? Was he planning something? She prayed he wasn't. With the Ministry snooping around, any attempt to capture Peter could end in catastrophe.

It was two days after she'd received her latest owl from "Snuffles" and there hadn't been a spare moment that she hadn't spent pouring over his scruffy handwriting, absorbing the words and their meanings as though Sirius's very soul was etched into the ragged parchment. For now, however, she folded the letter and tucked it in inside the pocket of her robes; the Great Hall was hardly the place for corresponding with wanted murderers.

"Are you quite finished not eating?" asked Snape, who was sitting in the chair besides Cassandra, watching her with pronounced curiosity.

"What? Oh…yes, I'm done," she responded half heartedly, rising from her seat to confirm as such. "I'm not really hungry tonight."

"I make that two nights in a row," Snape murmured silkily and his obsidian eyes slipped towards the pocket in Cassandra's robes. "Is something wrong, Cassandra?"

"No," she lied quickly. "Nothing at all. I'm just not very hungry."

She began to move along the staff table, hoping that her mentor would follow suit and silently; his awkward questions were beginning to prove a nuisance. She had enough interrogation to deal with from the Ministry. She did not think she could bear it if her colleagues turned on her too.

As she slipped out of the Great Hall, she was relieved to notice Snape was not far behind her, having abandoned his suspicions, though she could still feel his eyes boring into her back.

"We still need to finish brewing the Felix Felicis for the NEWT class before tomorrow," she reminded him, hoping to turn the subject away from herself.

"I had not forgotten, Cassandra," came the curt response from some three feet behind her. "In fact it was I who prepared the ingredients before we left for dinner."

"I know," Cassandra replied. She slowed her pace to allow Snape to overtake her as they crossed the Entrance Hall. The doors to the grounds were open - Filch was busy beating an ancient flying carpet from the upper floors - and the light of the spring moon was shining through the clouds of dust, vanishing only occasionally as a Dementor drifted across the night sky. Sirius was out there somewhere, probably still lurking in the Forbidden Forest, waiting for his chance to strike.

"_It won't be long now."_

Cassandra hoped he had been joking. She hoped he knew better than to attack Hogwarts again. He might not be so lucky a second time round.


	13. Chapter 13

_A.N. – I'm afraid to admit that there is a slight discrepancy in the accuracy of my timings for this chapter. From my readings of P.O.A., I had placed Black's second attack on Gryffindor Tower some time in early March. However, according to a timeline on the HP Lexicon, which I hold in reverence for all HP related knowledge, they attack took place in February. Had I not already published the previous chapters of this story, I would have wasted no time in going back and adjusting my writings. Yet the damage has been done, so I'm afraid we must put up with this minor discrepancy. That aside, please enjoy (and apologies for the delay)!_

Chapter Thirteen

March blew in cold and blustery, bringing with it shower after miserable shower of heavy rain, which assailed the castle with surprising force. Yet despite the formidable weather, the heated atmosphere inside the castle was palpable. Every student, it seemed, was riled up and ready for the imminent Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The news that the Gryffindor seeker had acquired a new and powerful broom had only stoked the fires of excitement.

On the morning of the match, the ambience in Great Hall was thick with tension and (excitement). The whole school was buzzing with anticipation. Even the weather seemed to working in their favour; the heavy showers had relinquished, giving way to cool yet clear day, with only the faintest of breezes to hinder the players.

Cassandra, however, remained untouched by the furore. Since her last letter to Sirius, she had been increasingly worried by his words and could not shake his promises from her mind. She toyed idly with her breakfast, making only the odd feeble attempt to actually eat any. Beside her, her mentor was sipping frugally at a cup of lukewarm tea. He spied her with her meal and smirked.

"Come now," he said silkily. "Even if they win, we'll still be in the lead."

Cassandra had to force herself not to laugh. How he could possibly believe her troubles were from Quidditch, she had no idea. Yet she was secretly relieved – he had been becoming quite suspicious of her behaviour of late and she could not afford to find herself under his scrutiny as well as the Ministry's.

"Do you intend on watching?" Cassandra asked, if only to avert his attention away from her.

"No," Snape replied. "We have work to do today. If you wish to go, I will allow-"

"I don't," she interjected. "I really, really don't."

"Fine," he smiled. "Then we shall get on with the research."

As the Great Hall emptied and the majority of the student body began to make their way to the Quidditch pitch, Cassandra and Severus headed back to the dungeons.

Their most recent batch of Wolfsbane Potion was still bubbling pleasantly away in Snape's office, giving off its telltale lilac steam. So far, Snape's careful regulation of the amounts of moon grass used had managed to prolong the potion's effect – a pleasing outcome. Yet he was still not satisfied.

"We need to find a way of reducing the narcotic effects of the potion," he informed her, as he made for his supply cupboard. "That way the user will not have to spend vast amounts of time unconscious."

"It must be connected to the aconite," Cassandra suggested.

"I know," her mentor responded warily. "But to alter the aconite content would render the potion ineffective."

"Well perhaps there's something we can add that will counter the effects of the aconite, without altering the potion."

"Indeed," murmured Snape. "But what?"

He perched on the end of his desk and stared very hard at the bubbling potion. Cassandra smiled at his expression; it reminded him of the concentration on his face when he was trying to walk straight after the staff party. However she stopped quickly, having felt a pang of guilt at thinking about that night's events. She was glad Snape had remembered so little of it. She could too well imagine the awful atmosphere between then if he had recalled their little incident.

"Cassandra, fetch a stack of those glass beakers," he ordered her suddenly, jolting her from her train of contemplation. "We're going to do it the old fashioned way – trial and error."

Cassandra nodded and collected a stack of the beakers from a shelf by the door. She and Snape ladled out samples of the potion until at least a dozen different beakers lined the length of his desk. Then he began to experiment, adding different ingredients to each one and painstakingly noting the slightest of results.

For the most part, Cassandra simply observed this process. She found it best not to interfere when her former housemaster was following a hunch; he liked to do things his way and could become quite irritable if he was discouraged.

Occasionally he would look up from his task to converse with her, but this tended not to last long.

"You never did tell me why you're doing this," Cassandra said, after a full five minutes of silence. She was sitting cross-legged on a chair, stirring the remaining Wolfsbane absent-mindedly. Snape turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. "Making this potion, I mean. Improving it. I know you better to know that it's not for Lupin's befit-"

Here she was interrupted by a sudden burst of harsh laughter from her mentor. She waited quite patiently for him to compose himself, and then continued pointedly:

"I know it's not for Lupin's benefit, so what does it mean for you?"

"It means recognition, Cassandra," he replied softly. "Recognition for the work I have been doing for over a decade that has gone unnoticed."

"To some, maybe," shrugged Cassandra. "Yet Slytherin House has never failed to notice your genius, Severus."

"What have I told you about flattery and wheedling?" Snape reminded her, though he was smirking none-the-less.

"I think you'll find that was quite honest," Cassandra smiled and, as though to unwittingly prove her point, she blushed slightly. Snape's smirk widened but he made no comment.

"Come here," he requested, eventually. "Take a look at this one and tell me what effect you think the wormwood is having."

Cassandra obeyed and bent over a frothing beaker on the edge of Snape's desk. Snape leant in over her, also inspecting the potion keenly. Cassandra was suddenly very aware of his proximity and had to bite her lip to stop her cheeks from reddening.

"_Subtlety_," she scolded herself, silently. "_You're a Slytherin, not a heart-on-your-sleeve Gryffindor_."

Yet the thought of Gryffindors only made her feel even more uncomfortable, as the image of Sirius's face swam across her mind.

"I looks like they're cancelling each other out," Cassandra commented, straightening up quickly. "Would you say so?"

"I would," Snape agreed and his face suddenly crumpled into a frown. "Which is bad," he added, "as I thought that would work."

He sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk, lacing his fingers, deep in thought.

Cassandra scowled at the potion. It was so rare that Snape's hunches were wrong. He was the best potion maker she had ever met in her life – and there were plenty of them. Perhaps it was something simple he had overlooked. She picked up the beaker and stared at it hard. The sample was well and truly ruined, so much so that it had separated into two layers; one was thick and green and contained most of the plant remains, the other purple and light, floating on top as though it were a gas.

Suddenly it came to her. Snape had been right in his assumption, just off in his measurements. She flew to his store cupboard and pulled out a brand new jar or powdered wormwood. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she opened it and tipped the contents not into a beaker, but into the simmering cauldron.

"What are you doing?!" Snape roared, jumping to his feet. "You'll ruin the entire batch!"

But Cassandra only smiled as the potion turned silver and then swiftly back to lilac again, and continued to bubble away merrily as it had done before, the pastel coloured stream rising from its surface in evanescent ribbons. Snape stared in disbelief.

"You were right," Cassandra beamed. "You just didn't account for the equal amounts of aconite and wormwood cancelling each other out. However, if you add more wormwood than aconite…"

"It will overpower the cancellation without invalidating the aconite, of course!" Snape cried triumphantly. He tuned his gazed to Cassandra and smiled the truest smile she had even seen in all her years of knowing him. "Oh you clever, clever girl!"

He picked her up and spun her round in an exultant circle. Cassandra gave a shriek of mixed surprise and delight, clutching to front of Snape's robes for fear of being dropped.

"Girl, I could kiss you!" he crowed, as he stopped spinning. Yet he did not put her down straight away. He peered into her face, which was torn between alarm and amusement at his sudden change of demeanour. Some peculiar something was glittering in his black eyes, and the strangest of expressions flashed across his countenance. Cassandra's heart began to thump wildly in her chest as, without warning, he cupped her chin and lifted it up to his, crushing their lips together in a hungry kiss.

At first Cassandra resisted. She closed her lips tightly and tried squirm away, telling herself she would not be unfaithful again. But Snape pulled her close to him, and her resolve melted away in a haze of teenage fantasies. She yielded, returning his kiss with the relish of months of repressed ardour, as he did years. The hand on her back tightened, making her gasp through their kiss.

However, their moment of passion did not last. Footsteps echoing in the dungeon corridor outside made the two spring apart. Seconds later, Snape's office door burst open and in strode Professor McGonagall, dragging four dishevelled Slytherins by the scruffs of their robes.

"Your students!" Professor McGonagall fumed, her nostrils flaring angrily. "Your students tried to sabotage my seeker!"

Cassandra saw Snape's lip curl as his gaze fell upon the four rule breakers: she recognised one of them as Lucius Malfoy's son, Draco, and another as the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Oh?" asked Snape, icily, and the boys visibly shrunk back at his deadly tone. "And how, Minerva, did they try to do that?"

Minerva McGonagall thrust three pairs of long, hooded robes into Snape's hands.

"No doubt they thought dressing up as Dementors would invoke a reaction like that of last match," she said coldly. "Professor Dumbledore has already had words with them, but we thought we'd leave the punishment to you, Severus, as the head of their flock."

She glowered angrily at the young Slytherins, before marching indignantly out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Snape rounded on his pupils.

"You imbeciles," he hissed, baring his teeth in a manner Cassandra would have found most alarming if she were still a student. "You complete and utter bunch of morons! What did you think you were going to achieve? Might I remind you that, no matter what we think, the rest of this school is sufficiently fond of Harry Potter? What did you think would come of you nearly killing him?"

He spat the last few words of his speech with so much acidity that the four boys flinched.

"And you two!" he breathed, hounding now on the Malfoy boy and his fellow Quidditch teammate. "Did you not spare a thought to what might happen to your House's lead were you to be discovered? You could have been disqualified from the final!"

Snape's black eyes were glinting malevolently as he glared at them, his fists clenched and his lip curled in anger.

"I'm disgusted with all of you!" he snarled. "Detention, Monday night, and don't you dare forget. Now get out of my sight!"

__

A.N. - Three cheers for controversy! Please don't hate me... lol. And All the Wolfsbane stuff - I apologise to any diehard fans if I've gotten it wrong. i did do my research but there was little information available!


	14. Chapter 14

_A.N. - Sorry if this causes any confusion regarding alerts but Chapter Fourteen needed to be resubmitted due to an error. The good news is that this is in order to publish Chapter Fifteen, which will be with you in the next few days! Yes, after all this time, I am **still** working on this piece. ^_^ Thank you to everyone who's stuck by it so long. I've had it planned out for ages. I even have the sequel all planned out! Unfortunately, university is very time consuming so I have precious few moments to work on my personal projects. However, I am **determined** to finish it and I will be doing my best to update it as often as possible! [04/06/2010]_

Chapter Fourteen

Later that evening, Cassandra found herself sitting with Snape by the fire in the Slytherin common room, marking a pile of weighty essays from the Hufflepuff second years (an assignment Snape _had_ decided to cancel, but had conveniently forgotten to tell the students from other houses). A gaggle of fifth years had crowded round him, as he simultaneously quizzed them on an upcoming test.

"What, then," he asked, absently, "is the second thing you add to your Draught of Peace?"

"Powdered moonstone, sir!" came an eager reply.

"And in what quantity?" he pressed, without looking up from his papers.

"Precisely an ounce," another voice responded.

Cassandra gazed across the small distance between herself and her mentor, simply allowing her thoughts to engulf her. She felt incredibly guilty for betraying Sirius again, all for the sake of some repressed teen crush she thought she had left behind. Yet at the same time, she wondered what Severus would be thinking as she watched him: would he have completely disregarded what had happened? Would it be playing on his mind as it was hers? Would he be hoping for more? She wished she had a way of knowing, if only for curiosities sake; she had no intention of indulging him again.

After a moment, Snape looked up for his work and caught her eye. There was a spark of some powerful heat there and Cassandra got the impression he was very much dwelling on their earlier encounter. Her guilt doubled. Thankfully, they were both distracted by the entrance of the Bloody Baron, who had just glided through the common room door with great haste. He murmured something in Snape's ear, who got to his feet at once, carelessly casting the sheaves of parchment to one side.

"Wake the prefects," he muttered, as he drew his wand. "And stay here – watch them! Cassandra!"

He beckoned her before sweeping out of the common room as fast as lightning. Cassandra jumped up, heart racing, and tore after him.

"Severus," she called, half running up the dungeon corridor. "What is it? What's the matter?"

Snape paused to allow her to catch up.

"It's Black," he informed her, his obsidian eyes glittering strangely. "He's been in the castle."

Cassandra felt her heart skip a beat and her mouth became suddenly dry.

"Where?" she whispered, hoarsely. "Did they catch him?"

"No," Snape responded, setting off up the corridor again. "He was in Gryffindor Tower again – slashed that Weasley kid's bed apart but fled upon being discovered. They have no idea where he is now."

Cassandra thought she could take a pretty decent guess. Sirius would not have lingered in the castle after being sighted: even he was not that foolish. He would be halfway to her cottage by now, if not already there. And she had to go and see him, to warn him away. If the Ministry came to her tonight… well, she shuddered to think what they would do to him. She paused in her tracks, contemplating her next move. Snape followed suit.

"What is it?" he murmured softly.

"I have to go," Cassandra said, simply. "I'm sorry, there's something I have to do."

"What could you possibly need to do that's more important than this?" asked Snape. His expression was unreadable, but Cassandra could see a glimmer of distrust in his eyes: he was suspicious.

"I'm sorry," she said again, patting him rather lamely on the forearm before turning and running full pelt out of the dungeon corridor and into the entrance hall. She half expected to hear a curse or stunning spell come rushing past her but nothing came. Grateful, she sprinted out of the castle doors and into the night.

Dementors were everywhere and, judging from their behaviour, they could tell something was going on. Cassandra had to get past them, to get beyond the castle walls before she could disapparate. There was no way they were going to make it easy for her. So she drew her wand, cast her patronus and ran in its wake.

A lithe silvery fox charged its way through the looming crowds of Dementors, clearing a path for Cassandra. She kept her wand firmly trained ahead of her, where she knew her destination lay. It seemed to be a clear run until one Dementor came for her from behind. She felt it's scabby, rotten hand close on her shoulders and a sudden, terrible wave of despair coursed through her, weakening her. Her patronus faltered and near vanished.

"You're a Slytherin," a sneering voice in her head was telling her. "You'll never amount to any good."

Cassandra tried to shake it off, telling herself it wasn't real. She felt ready to collapse. She could hear the Dementor's long, rattling breaths over her shoulder, growing louder, closer. Yet she summoned the last of her strength and managed to push it's putrid hand away long enough for her to reach the castle gates, slip through them and vanish into the night.

She apparated onto her garden path and collapsed on all fours onto the smooth, cold stones. A wave nausea passed through her and for an awful moment she thought she was going to faint. Yet the brisk night air proved therapeutic, bringing her back to the present. Sirius was waiting for her and now the Ministry would be coming for certain. She had to get him away.

She clambered shakily to her feet and staggered to the front door, which she unlocked with a single flick of her wand. All seemed quiet in the Starr household. The hallway was in near darkness, lit only by the dim flicker of the candles in the adjoining drawing room. At first, Cassandra thought she might have been mistaken: perhaps Sirius had not fled to her after all. However, when the front door had closed with a faint snap, a frantic looking house elf peeped her head around the drawing room door.

"Mistress!" Mishka exclaimed, rushing to Cassandra's side at once. "What happened?"

The elf's cries brought a second figure running from the adjoining room, tall and dishevelled.

"Cassie!"

A familiar hoarse voice met Cassandra's ears. She barely had time to register a gaunt, pale face framed with matted hair before she was pulled into a tight embrace.

"Sirius," she murmured, softly, burying her face in the ragged fabric of his clothing, unperturbed by the damp, musty smell they gave off. Bony hands clutched at her neck and the small of her back, crushing her against him.

"Sirius," Cassandra repeated, louder this time. She pulled away from his embrace to look him in the eyes. "Sirius," she said again, solemnly. "The Dementors caught me coming down here. It's only a matter of time before they storm in here looking for you."

"They won't." replied Sirius, calmly, though his face showed the barest signs of worry.

"Of course they will!" Cassandra cried. "They've been waiting for an excuse to arrest me and now their wretches caught me fleeing the scene of a sighting – this is all they need!"

At her side, Mishka gave a tiny gasp of horror, clamping her hands over her face.

"What will you do, mistress?" the elf squeaked.

"There's only one thing I can do," whispered Cassandra, her heart sinking. "I have to go. We both do, Sirius. I just have to leave all this stuff behind and go."

"Leave your family's heritage?" Mishka exclaimed. "Leave Mishka?"

Cassandra could feel her eyes brimming with tears at the hurt in the elf's voice. She had no choice. If she stayed, they would all be arrested and thrown into Azkaban. She had to leave, to become an outlaw with Sirius. It was the only way.

"I'm sorry, Mishka," she murmured, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. You've been nothing but a pleasure to me and my family and I cannot thank you enough."

"Mistress does not know what she is saying," the elf whispered, shaking her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Mistress has gone loopy…"

"I haven't gone loopy," Cassandra sighed. "For once, I am seeing sense."

She reached into the fold of her robes and withdrew a self-inking quill and a crumpled piece of parchment, upon which she began to scribble a few lines of writing.

"Here," she said, shakily. "Go up to the castle and give this to the man called Professor Dumbledore. He won't refuse you-"

"No, mistress, no!" Mishka whimpered, her great round eyes beginning to swim with tears.

"It's not clothes, Mishka," Cassandra pressed on, fighting back her own tears. "It's not, I promise you. If all goes well, it will only be temporary, until we've cleared Sirius's name. But it's not safe for you to be with me right now."

"Mishka does not care," the elf sobbed. "Mishka will follow her mistress to the ends of the earth."

"Please," whispered Cassandra. "Please don't make this any harder that it already is, Mishka. You've done such a noble job serving my family. I can't let it end for you like this."

Tears began to leak down the young witch's face. The elf looked so apathetic, her bulbous eyes wet and shining, her miniscule face crumpled with sadness: Cassandra's heart threatened to break. She pressed the folded piece of parchment into Mishka's long fingers. The elf stared at it for a moment then glanced up and gave her mistress an alarming sort of salute, her expression suddenly fierce.

"If this is what mistress wishes," she exclaimed, "it shall be done. Mishka will always serve the Starr family, whatever they is asking of her."

Cassandra smiled a watery smile.

"Thank you, Mishka," she murmured. "I promise I'll be in touch. If…" her voice faltered for a moment, but she managed to gain control. "If anything should happen to me, I want you to know you have been the best house elf any witch or wizard could hope for and it has been an honour to know you."

Mishka's passionate expression flickered and her bottom lip trembled with emotion.

"Thank you, mistress," she managed to choke out. "It has been an honour to serve the Starrs. Mistress is a truly noble and selfless witch."

With that, the elf vanished with a loud crack and wish of silvery smoke. It took all of Cassandra's strength not to break down and cry. She didn't know whether she would ever see Mishka again, the elf who had near raised her from birth. She was counting on Dumbledore's kindness, praying he would take care of her despite what he might think of Cassandra at the current moment in time.

Cassandra felt a comforting arm on her shoulders and forced herself back to the task at hand. They had to go. Her secrecy spells would only hold for so long. Any moment, the Ministry could burst through her front door and see them both together, confirming what they had long since suspected.

"We'd better get out of here," she said quietly. "I'm just going to send a quick message to Gringott's."

She crossed the hall and entered the drawing room. An ornate, golden hand mirror lay on the mantelpiece and she seized it at once and held it up to her face. The glass glowed an eerie green before displaying the face of a long nosed, beady-eyed goblin with a wiry grey beard.

"Miss Starr!" the goblin exclaimed. "Has that time finally arrived?"

"I'm afraid so," she said, quietly. "I don't know how long I have before they get here. Make sure everything on the list I gave you gets taken to my vault. You will find your payment in there also."

"As you wish, Miss Starr," the goblin responded, before vanishing from the mirror. Cassandra set the ornament down and turned to face Sirius, who was looking faintly bemused as he lingered in the doorway.

"I have suspected this day might come," she admitted. "I've arranged for anything here of value to be taken to my vault in Gringott's. Anything else the Ministry are welcome to."

Sirius's pale face grew sad and weary.

"You don't have to do this," he muttered.

"I do," said Cassandra, firmly. "I could lie my way out of this, true enough. But I have no idea how I might react under torture and I will not allow myself to be the one who gives you away."

Sirius gave a faint smile and held out a near skeletal hand to her. Cassandra took it, standing nervously by his side.

"Where are we to go?" she asked, timidly. "I can't transform like you can – I'm going to be a dead giveaway."

"Don't worry," Sirius croaked. "I know of an underground hollow in the Forbidden Forest that's just perfect-"

Suddenly, there came a hammering on the door.

"Cassandra Starr!" A voice barked, loudly. "We know you're in there. Your house is surrounded by a team of highly trained Aurors. Do not attempt to escape!"

Cassandra's heart almost stopped. She glanced up at Sirius, who was looking as pale as she had ever seen him.

"Open the door, Miss Starr!" the voice commanded. "Open the door or we'll blast it apart!"

"What shall we do?" Cassandra breathed frantically.

"The forest is our only hope," Sirius whispered. "We'll have to apparate."

"You don't have a wand!" murmured Cassandra.

"I'll have to borrow yours," came Sirius's reply. "I'm the only one who knows where it is."

Cassandra nodded and handed him her wand, feeling at once naked and exposed.

"Alright, Miss Starr," the voice outside was shouting. "We're coming in! On three, men. One…"

"Quickly!" Cassandra whispered.

"Two…"

Sirius took Cassandra in his arms. He spun them both around and Cassandra felt the peculiar jerk in her stomach that told her they were apparating. The scene of her living room melted away before "three" ever met her ears. She felt herself rushing through nothingness, safely nestled in Sirius's emaciated arms. After what seemed like far too long, Cassandra felt solid ground beneath her feet and both she and Sirius toppled to the floor.

She found herself looking up at a night sky from beneath a veil of thick branches and many green leaves. The ground beneath her was crunchy and had a distinct smell of fresh earth. There was no doubt about it – they had made it to the forest.

She sat up, rubbing the elbow that had hit a tree root on her fall. They were in small clearing in an exceptionally dense, dark patch of the forest. Nothing seemed to be moving. She did not know whether this was a good thing or something to be worried about. She turned to Sirius, who too was sitting up, rubbing his arms.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "It's been a long time since I've done that by myself, let alone with two people."

He handed her back her wand, which was, thankfully, still in one piece. Cassandra smiled.

"It's ok," she whispered. "You got us out of there and that's all that matters."

Being in the confines of the forest seemed to have melted her fears and the realisation that she was with the man she had not seen in months was dawning upon her.

"Sirius," she whispered, and she leant over to claim a tentative kiss from his dry, cracked lips. He returned the gesture, running his bony fingers through her dark curls. When they pulled away, Cassandra saw a look of serenity like she had never seen before upon his face.

"If I'd known being an outlaw involved this, I'd have broken out sooner," he smiled. He got to his feet, offering Cassandra a helping hand.

"Where is this hollow then?" she asked, as she allowed herself to be heaved to her feet.

"Just over there," said Sirius, nodding towards a tangle of tree roots. Cassandra could see nothing but gnarled tree and solid earth. Yet, as she inched closer, she realised that the darkness between one raised, knotted root was not earth but actually an opening large enough for a slighter person to slip through.

"There's a tunnel that you have to crawl through for a few feet," Sirius explained, "but it opens out into a huge hollow. I can easily stand up in it."

Cassandra smiled.

"Well, it will do nicely for now," she smiled. "Though that opening is a little too noticeable."

She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the base of the tree trunk.

"Hedera helixius!" she whispered and at once lush, green ivy began to spread across the roots and lower trunk of the tree, concealing the narrow entrance from view.

"Clever girl," Sirius smiled.

"There's one more," Cassandra said, smiling in turn. "But I'll cast that once we're in."

Sirius nodded and, in true Gryffindor style, or so Cassandra thought, he offered to go first into the hollow. Lifting up the curtain of ivy, he lay on his stomach and wriggled headfirst into the opening. Cassandra didn't much like the idea of crawling into a very small, very dark hole in the ground, yet there didn't seem to be any alternative for a couple of outlaws on the run. With a slight hint of trepidation, she followed Sirius into the passage.

It was very dark and smelt strongly of damp earth. Cassandra did not have enough space to crawl on her hands and knees: instead she had to wriggle on her belly like a snake. She almost laughed at the irony of it. Being unable to see ahead of her, she had to rely on the scraping, shuffling sounds of Sirius from ahead of her. It seemed to take forever, but eventually she heard a soft thud and a cry of "Oof! From up ahead. Then Sirius's voice floated back to her.

"Cassie, be careful, there's a-"

Yet his warning did not come in time. Cassandra wriggled out of the passageway and into open space, before promptly falling several feet and landing on top of Sirius.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she cried, disentangling herself from him with some difficulty, as it was still pitch black.

"It's ok," came Sirius's voice. "I didn't quite warn you in time."

Cassandra fumbled in her robes of her wand and drew it out with a soft cry of "Lumos!"

Light flooded to their eyes and Cassandra could see she was standing in a remarkably sized hollow, rather like a burrow. It was tall enough for both her and Sirius to stand comfortably and wide enough to house a good five or six people, if they were to lie down side by side. The walls and ceiling were simply compacted earth, supported by an intricate network of criss-crossing tree roots.

"Well, isn't this cosy," Cassandra said.

"It's not exactly Starr manor," shrugged Sirius.

"It's perfect," she smiled. "For now, at least. It needs a few homing touches though."

Using the light from her wand, Cassandra picked up a selection of twigs from the earthy floor and transfigured them into candles, which she set to however above their heads like those in the great hall.

"There," she beamed, admiring her handiwork. "Much better than a single Lumos light. Oh yes, one more thing…"

She extinguished her wand light and pointed the instrument up the gloomy passage they had just crawled through. "Muffliato," she murmured. Nothing appeared to happen, though Cassandra knew differently.

"What does that do?" Sirius asked, frowning up at the entrance to the passageway.

"It stops anyone passing by from hearing us talking in here," she said. "A little something I picked up from an old friend of mine."

"Ah, very clever," smiled Sirius. "I had no idea you were so talented."

Cassandra laughed and shook her head.

"Like I said, it's not my spell," she said again, sitting down the surprisingly warm floor and noticing, with a hint of annoyance, the dirt on the front of her robes.

"Tergeo," she muttered, siphoning the soil out of the black fabric. Sirius sat down next to her with a weary sigh, causing her to look up.

He was thinner, if possible, than he had been last time she saw him. His pale, papery skin was stretched tightly over his cheekbones and his eyes looked sunken and hollow, and bore great, dark shadows of exhaustion around them.

"You don't look so good," Cassandra murmured, pocketing her wand.

"I wish I could say the same," Sirius chuckled, "but it would be a bare-faced lie… even if your hair is sticking up."

Cassandra sighed and began to fiddle with her dark curls impatiently; Sirius only laughed.

"Leave it," he smiled. "It's fine."

She relented, turning back to the raggedy figure next to her.

"You haven't yet told me why you went back to Gryffindor tower?" she said, more seriously. Sirius's smile vanished at once.

"It was foolish," he admitted. "I know that. It was just the cat told me-"

"The cat?" Cassandra interjected, her eyebrows rising into her hairline.

"Yes. Harry's friend – the girl – has this very clever cat. It knows who I am, or at least it knows I am not really a dog. It's been showing me secret passageways into the castle and tonight I just happened to encounter that treacherous ra-"

Cassandra placed a finger on Sirius's dry, rough lips, silencing him.

"It's ok," she said, softly. "You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just glad you got out of there alright."

Sirius kissed the finger that covered his lips. Then, brushing her hand aside, he kissed Cassandra's lips in turn, stealing her breath away. Cassandra kissed him back fervently, not caring if his mouth was dry or his breath bad tasting; she had yearned for his kiss for too long to bother with such trivialities. Thin fingers caressed her neck and shoulders, and her body began to ache for more intimate contact. Yet tonight would not be that night – Sirius was too frail, too weak.

When he eventually wrenched himself away, it was with a heavy sigh. Cassandra's desire must have shown on her face, for he gave a low laugh.

"My dear, if only," he murmured, stroking her cheek delicately. "I do not think I am even capable…"

"I know," she responded, softly "I would not expect it of you, not so soon. Not now."

He kissed her forehead tenderly and drew her into his arms.

"I will have to teach you to become an Animagus tomorrow," he told her, quietly. "If we're going to evade the Ministry, it's the only way."

"Doesn't that take ages?" asked Cassandra, glancing up at Sirius's face,

"It can," he murmured, his eyes already closing. "But we might be able to manage a crash course. I have every faith in you."

Cassandra smiled, relishing the warm but bony figure she leant upon, glad to finally be able to spend a night with him, be it only in each other's arms. She felt oddly liberated, as though the great weight of her secret life had been lifted from her shoulders. Yes, she was homeless and on the run from the Ministry. Yes, she was going to have to learn to take on an animal form in an impossibly short amount of time. Yet she was finally with Sirius, and nothing, it seemed, could bother her now. Nothing except the memory of a certain kiss, a kiss that turned in the back of her mind, twisting her stomach into guilty knots. It should never have happened, she told herself. She could only hope that Sirius would never find out.


	15. Chapter 15

_A.N. - Here it is, Chapter Fifteen! Sorry about the wait. -_- It's been a long and difficult year and it's not going to get much better (hooray for dissertations) but I'll do my best to update as regularly as possible. I hope you enjoy it. It's not a particularly long one this time, as Chapter Sixteen looks to be quite weighty._

_Usual Disclaimer - Sirius Black, Severus Snape etc. are property of J.K. Rowling (even in death... -_-)._

Chapter Fifteen

Cassandra awoke to darkness, damp and the smell of earth. Her first instincts were of panic and confusion. She fumbled around blindly in the dark, the tips of her fingers scrabbling for the touch of something familiar. Then she felt the warmth of the man beside her and heard the soft, muffled sound of his breathing. She smiled, chiding herself for her forgetfulness. Reaching into her robes, she pulled out her wand.

"Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand burst into light. Holding it up, she could see little puddles of dried wax on the ground where her candles had obviously melted away overnight. The entrance to the burrow was still concealed by the ivy she had conjured, so she could not tell whether it was yet the morning. She decided not to wake Sirius. Instead, she stepped cautiously over him and, gripping her wand between her teeth, began to hoist herself into the narrow passageway to the surface. She discovered it was a little harder to wriggle out than it was to get in, as the tunnel sloped slightly upwards. When she eventually got to the leaf covered entrance and pushed the tangled branches aside, she was rather out of breath.

Dappled sunlight greeted her eyes. The forest was still and surprisingly serene, with the sweet melody of bird song the only sound Cassandra could hear. From the colour of the pink strewn sky that she could glimpse through the canopy, she guessed that it was not long past dawn.

"Where are you going?"

Cassandra jumped at the sound of Sirius' voice floating up to her from below. She slid back into the tunnel, replacing the leafy curtain, before she responded.

"I was just checking if there's daylight yet," she called back, as she wriggled her way into the little burrow. Just as she'd done the night before, she rather overshot the length of the tunnel and fell clumsily into the underground hollow. Somewhere in the darkness, she heard Sirius chuckle.

"Not funny," she muttered, as he began to laugh in earnest at her defensiveness. "Lumos!" she added, irritably, and a white light erupted at the tip of her wand, bathing them both in a heavenly glow.

"Good morning," grinned Sirius and Cassandra felt her annoyance melt at once. "And how is the outside world?"

"It looks to be just past dawn," the girl responded, returning his smile. She drew him into a warm embrace, noting sadly how his ribs protruded so from his back and how bony and sinewy his shoulders felt under her fingers. His hair, which she'd done her best to clean up last time she'd seen him, was once again matted with filth. As they pulled apart, Sirius met her gaze and flashed her an apologetic smile.

"It's been a rough few weeks," he admitted, quietly. "Rats aren't fantastically nutritious. Play havoc with my stomach too..."

Cassandra pulled a face.

"Rats?" she repeated, feeling nauseated at the very thought. "Is that what you've been living off?"

"Oh yes," he smirked fiendishly. "You have all this to look forward to! Unless you turn into a rabbit or something, then I suppose you can get away with living off grass and dandelion leaves."

Cassandra was reminded of the task ahead of them and she felt suddenly nervous. Transfiguration was not her strongest of skills – like any good Slytherin, her aptitude lay in potions and duelling.

"What if I can't do it, Sirius?" she murmured, looking shamefully at her knees. "Or worse, what if I do it wrong? I've heard all sorts of stories about wizards who can manage turning into an animal but they forget to retain their human memory. They forget they were ever human and live their whole lives as animals!"

"I won't let that happen to you," Sirius responded gently, placing a skeletal hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "James and I taught ourselves and we managed okay. If you're struggling with it though, we'll find another way. I don't want you doing yourself any damage."

Cassandra smiled at his words of encouragement.

"What's the plan then?" she asked, and the gaunt face across from her beamed.

"Well I don't know about you," Sirius murmured, "but I am starving. So I think breakfast first, then we can get down to work."

"I can't argue with that," Cassandra laughed and she followed Sirius out of the tunnel and into the forest above.

In the light of steadily rising sun, the little clearing looked rather pleasant and peaceful. Cassandra could not imagine why such a tranquil forest could ever be forbidden and she told Sirius so.

"It's not all like this, believe me," Sirius informed her grimly. "Let's just say the forest is out of bounds for a good reason. Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment fair lady, I need to answer a call of nature."

Cassandra blinked at him curiously and it wasn't until she saw him hitching up the front of his robes that she realised what he'd meant. She turned away at once, blushing profusely. Sirius simply chuckled

"Nothing you haven't seen before, babe," he called playfully, sighing his relief. Cassandra tried hard not to listen to the sound of him of him urinating. She focused very hard on the clearing around her, inspecting the trees and undergrowth for anything that might be edible. She spotted a small, if a little stunted, bush, which bore a meagre bounty of bilberries.

"I found breakfast," she declared, pointing at the spot a little way ahead of her. Sirius joined her a moment later, adjusting his robes.

"So you did," he grinned. "Well that will do for you nicely, and I can find something in seconds, this place is crawling with rats and hares."

"You're leaving me here?" Cassandra whispered, suddenly apprehensive. True, their clearing seemed safe enough but should some dangerous beast happen upon them...

"I won't be long, I promise," Sirius smiled gently, kissing her on the lips. Cassandra felt a tingle of excitement in spite of herself. "Keep your wand drawn and your eyes open and I'll be back before you know it. And make sure you eat – you'll need your strength."

Cassandra nodded, biting her lip as she watched Sirius transform into his dog form. He gave her hand a reassuring lick before bounding off into the trees, his tail wagging enthusiastically. The former Slytherin took a steeling look around the clearing. It looked as serene as it had done moments before but she knew better than to assume that this guaranteed her safety. Just as Sirius had instructed, she drew her wand and gripped it tightly as she bent down to harvest the little bush of its crop. The berries were small and sour and not particularly filling. Nevertheless, she partook of her frugal breakfast, trying not to think about the warm, creamy porridge or buttery croissants that she could have been eating back at the castle. Thoughts of Severus crossed her mind and she felt a pang of sickening guilt. What was he thinking right now, she wondered. Surely he must now know or at least suspect of her involvement with Sirius. Maybe, she thought with alarm, he might think she was dead. She felt a strangling urge to write to him and reassure him, which she berated herself for as soon as she'd thought of it.

Sirius was true to his word. He'd only been gone a few minutes before he returned, trotting into the clearing with his tail held high. He transformed and the big black dog became Sirius once again, who reappeared looking content and massaging his stomach.

"Rats and rabbits," he grinned. "What a veritable feast."

"Did you encounter any trouble?" asked Cassandra, as he sat down heavily on the leaf strewn ground.

"No," he yawned, lazily stretching. "In fact, the whole area looks untouched, which is good. At least we know the Ministry aren't running around looking for us."

He smiled at Cassandra, reaching over to toy idly with her glossy brown hair.

"Ready to get started?" he murmured softly and he looked her up and down thoughtfully. Cassandra gave a heavy sigh and the nervous, fluttering feeling returned to her stomach.

"About as ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

Sirius patted the ground next to him invitingly and bounced his eyebrows. Smiling uneasily, she settled herself next to him, ready to hear what he had to say.

"I suppose," he began, pensively, lying back to look up at the leafy canopy, "That the first and most important thing you need to know about the transformation is that it's not like becoming an animal. You don't need to think like an animal or act like an animal because, when it comes down to it, that's really what you're trying to avoid. It's more like putting on the disguise of an animal, because underneath you still want to be yourself.

"When James taught me, he told me to imagine wearing an animal skin over your clothes. Then, imagine the skin growing and changing so that it fits your body perfectly. Imagine it fusing with your skin, moulding to your body, and your body moulding with it until you look like an animal on the outside, but you're still you on the inside."

"But to do that, I need to know what animal I'm going to turn into don't I?" asked Cassandra, feeling flummoxed. "Do you just choose one and go with it?"

"No," Sirius smiled. "You already know your animal. It chose you."

"My patronus?" she gasped. "Of course!" It seemed obvious now he'd said it; she'd seen Professor McGonagall transform into her tabby cat form plenty of times and she knew from Professor Flitwick that her patronus was also a cat.

"Exactly," grinned Sirius. "So you would be a...?"

"A fox," Cassandra murmured, blushing. It was an intimate thing to reveal the form of one's patronus. Many wizards believed that it was a reflection of one's true character. If this was the case, what did having a fox patronus say about her?

'_That I'm a crafty little rogue who kisses her colleagues behind her lover's back,'_ she thought instantly, but Sirius seemed to have devised another interpretation, judging by his smirk.

"A bushy tailed vixen," he chuckled. "How very appropriate!"

'_You have no idea,'_ Cassandra thought sadly.

"Well, you know your target animal now," Sirius said, apparently checking a mental list off on his fingers. "You're aware that your own physical characteristics will affect your animal form, right? That charming little scar on your cheek, for example..."

Delicately, he traced the silvery line that ran the length of Cassandra's face with his thumb.

"I know," she nodded. "It will still be there."

"Luckily, scars aren't too noticeable on wild animals," Sirius counselled wisely. "It's if you had glasses or something that your disguise might be compromised."

Cassandra nodded weakly. So far, she didn't feel remotely confident. So she knew what animal she was meant to be turning into. She was no closer, however, to knowing how to do it.

"Is there an incantation?" she asked, hopefully. Sirius, however, shook his head.

"Sorry, princess," he smiled, apologetically. "It's like Apparition – you just have to learn how to do it." Cassandra sighed and shook her head.

"I must say, this seems an impossible task," she murmured. "But if we don't try, I suppose we'll never know how impossible."

"Remember the skin thing," advised Sirius, kindly. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but you'll be surprised how much it helps."

Cassandra and Sirius spent the rest of their morning practising the Animagus technique. Sirius, it turned out, was a patient mentor and for the entirety of the morning, he asked her only to familiarise herself with the form she was going to take on. He even disappeared into the forest in his dog form and returned with a living, breathing specimen for her to examine, which she quickly immobilised to avoid inevitable bites and scratches.

By the afternoon, Cassandra was thoroughly fed up of the sight of foxes, be they real ones or her patronus. She was delighted when Sirius decided to call it a day.

"I don't want to overload you to begin with," he smiled, as she threw her arms around him in an appreciative hug. "It'll only be detrimental to your overall transformation."

"What are we to do then?" she asked, curiously. "What do you normally do with your days?"

Sirius simply shrugged as he pulled Cassandra down to the ground with him and sat with her in his arms.

"I'll sometimes go scout out the school," he answered, thoughtfully. "Or I'll go to find the cat, he knows an awful lot about what's going on with Harry." Cassandra shot him a warming look and he added quickly, "I won't be doing that today, of course. I'll leave it a few days for things to blow over before I go back up there."

"Sensible," she nodded, leaning back into his skinny arms, surprised, as ever, by his strength. "So if spying and cat hunting are off the agenda, what is it that we're going to do with ourselves?"

The bony and ragged wizard behind her gave her bottom a frivolous squeeze, before leaning in to whisper lewdly in her ear.

"I can think of something."


End file.
